


When the Storms Come

by TraceyLordHaven



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 35,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TraceyLordHaven/pseuds/TraceyLordHaven
Summary: Storms come in many forms.  So does recovery.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 45
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have been through a hurricane, you know how awful it can be. If stories of post-hurricane recovery are upsetting to you, or you are bothered by references to Hurricane Katrina, you might not want to read this.

The sun was bright, the sky was cloudless and blue, and a welcome breeze was blowing.

It could have been a beautiful day. It was too bad about the smell.

As she lugged yet another broken tree branch off Highway 98 to the trash pile, Kathryn tried not to think about the smell. But it was hard to avoid.

There was the regular smell of the Gulf of Mexico, yes – salt water and sea life, with a little bit of diesel from the shrimp fleet. But that smell was covered with the smells of their new reality, post-hurricane.

The smell of damp, moldy sheetrock. Soaked carpets and mattresses rotting in the humid August heat. A lingering natural gas smell from the few broken lines that still had not been capped.

And death. 

Dead fish. Dead birds. Dead animals – deer, farm animals, pets. And people.

It had been three days since Hurricane Rick had hit the small Florida town of Voyager, and there were still at least 35 people missing. Kathryn knew their families had not given up hope. But she knew that smell.

Some of the 35 had died. 

Were they in the ruins of their homes? Had they been swept inland with the storm surge? Had they been carried back out into the Gulf when the back half of the storm reversed the direction of the winds and the water flow?

Kathryn knew the smell of death, and she knew that some of her neighbors had perished. The smell lingered in her nose, like a film she couldn’t wash or wipe away. When it became too much to bear, she would run to the City truck she’d been using and press the lavender car vent air freshener against her nose and inhale deeply. That scent, a reminder of her mother’s favorite perfume and her childhood home in Indiana, would hearten her. And she would return to the devastation.

She had been working as City Administrator for fewer than six months when Hurricane Rick hit. Her small apartment complex had been swept away by the Category 4 storm. She and a few other city employees were camping out at one of the fire stations that had survived mostly intact. They were all in different locations right now, trying to clear stretches of road of debris that didn’t require heavy machinery to move.

“Ms. Janeway, would you like some water?”

Kathryn turned to see Harry Kim approaching her with several bottles of water in a grocery bag.

“A gift from one of the church groups?” she asked as she took the bottle he held out for her. It had been one of the most remarkable things Kathryn had seen in the days since the storm. No sooner had the winds died down that various groups of volunteers from other parts of Florida as well as nearby states had started showing up with supplies and manpower. It had been a group of Methodists from Pass Christian, Mississippi, who helped them make Fire Station Three habitable for Kathryn and the other city employees who were staying there.

When Kathryn had tried to express her gratitude, one of the men in the group just shook his head and said, “We were in Katrina. We know.”

“These were Missionary Baptists from Tennessee,” Harry said. “They left several cases of water, boxes of cereal and canned food, and a bunch of first aid kits – they are headed to Pensacola next, I was surprised they were able to give us as much as they did. I locked everything up at the firehouse, we can take it to the Lot tomorrow.”

“Thank, Harry,” Kathryn replied with a smile. “But be sure and take at least half a case of water and some of that food back to your parents tonight. For them, not the Lot.”

Harry was the son of John and Mary Kim, the owners of a successful fishing and shrimping business in town. The Kim’s were well-loved in Voyager, even more so the last few days. Mr. Kim had set up several salvaged grills in the parking lot of the local grocery store, and many of the families who had already returned to Voyager were relying on that location for their daily sustenance. Several restaurants and families who had found their freezers intact had taken their rapidly-thawing food to “The Lot” and had grilled what they could still safely eat, and shared it with others whose freezers were probably somewhere in the Gulf.

Mrs. Kim had also set up a small, make-shift clinic in the Lot. The Voyager police, rather than threatening people who were trying to break into the few small drugstores in the area, had enlisted residents in collecting whatever medical supplies were still viable and stocking Mrs. Kim’s tent.

Kathryn had drunk half the bottle of water Harry had given her in less than a minute. She was tempted to pour it over her head, but that would been a waste of a precious resource. So she just poured a tiny bit on her hand and wiped her face.

“I should have checked on the daily average humidity of this place before I moved here,” she said with a slight grimace. 

Harry smiled and said, “My mom always says every day is a bad hair day in Voyager!”

Before Kathryn could respond, the sound of a vehicle caught her attention. She and Harry looked to he barely-cleared road where they saw a battered SUV pulling up, a small trailer attached to it. The trailer had the words “ _Maquis Woodwork – Hand Crafted Design_ ” painted on the side.

The driver had obviously noticed Kathryn and Harry and was driving slowly towards them, negotiating the trash and debris still on the highway. Eventually he gave up and just parked the truck in the middle of the road.

A man and a woman got out of the truck. They were both olive-skinned with dark hair and brown eyes. The woman was short, about the same height as Kathryn, maybe in her 30’s. The man was taller and older and ….

“Damn,” Kathryn thought to herself.

He was hot. Hotter than the August sun and the Florida humidity combined.

“Can we help you?” Harry asked the two as they approached.

The man smiled and asked, “Is this Voyager?”

“It is,” Kathryn replied.

The man turned to look at his companion and grinned.

“I told you we’d find it eventually,” he said to her. She rolled her eyes in response, but smiled.

“You were looking for Voyager?” Kathryn asked.

The man turned to look at her and held out his hand to shake hers.

“Yes,” he said. “My name is Chakotay, this is B’Elanna. We are here to help.”


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re here to help,” he said.

Kathryn immediately tensed. Not long after she took the job as City Administrator with the City of Voyager, she had gone to a conference on emergency preparedness in Tallahassee, the state capital. One of the things state leaders had stressed repeatedly was the tendency of scam artists to show up in disaster zones. Seemingly-helpful strangers would swarm hard-hit communities and offer to assist trusting victims in patching their roofs, removing moldy sheetrock, or otherwise making their homes somewhat habitable.

For just a small advance fee, of course.

After a few days of collecting “customers” and up-front money, though, these helpful souls would just disappear. 

Kathryn had been horrified by the stories some of her counterparts from other coastal towns told her of these post-storm vultures. One fellow administrator, a fellow from a town on the Apalachee Bay, had gotten teary-eyed talking about the long-term damage caused by crooks of that sort.

“They targeted our elderly residents, no question. And it wasn’t just that they stole from people who were just looking for a little help, they humiliated them,” he had told Kathryn with emotion. “They would say they needed to go buy building supplies, take thousands of dollars in cash from the people they had made verbal agreements with, and just disappear. And my people would be left with no roofs and no money. One of my own neighbors, a Korea War vet, was so embarrassed and upset, he actually committed suicide.”

Some of that was in her mind as she eyed the suddenly-not-quite-as-good-looking man in front of her and his young female friend.

“What kind of help?” Kathryn asked warily.

“Whatever is needed, if we can do it,” Chakotay replied. “I brought chainsaws, reciprocating saws, and other things for debris removal and demolition. Gasoline and a portable generator. I also brought nail guns, drills, a table saw, ladders, and a bunch of hand tools for repair.”

Harry looked impressed and said, “I think we’ll be able to use all of that, I still haven’t located our family’s tools. Dad and I haven’t had a chance to fully dig through what’s left of his tool shed, not with Joe Carey’s boat sitting on top of it.”

Kathryn wasn’t ready to be impressed.

“What about supplies? Plywood, sheetrock, and so forth? You going to need people to hand you their cash for that?” she asked with a challenging edge in her voice.

Chakotay’s look went from cheery to pensive. He understood the nature of her question and withdrew his hand.

“No,” he said gravely, looking directly at Kathryn, “No, we won’t do that.”

Then his companion spoke up.

“Supplies will arrive in a few days. We decided to spend a couple of days with Mike, see what’s needed, then call New Orleans with a shopping list.”

“Mike?” Kathryn asked – at the same time, Harry asked “New Orleans?”

“Yes, to both,” Chakotay replied, smiling a little again. “We're here to help our friend, Mike Ayala, he asked us to come.”

“Ohhhhh,” Kathryn said in response.

Mike Ayala ran the community center in Voyager. He wasn’t a city employee, but Kathryn had worked with him on a number of projects. She thought he was a good man, though he was reluctant to talk about his past. If this Chakotay and B’Elanna were in town at Mike’s invitation, then Kathryn was willing to give them a chance.

Plus, they definitely needed the help.

“New Orleans?” Harry asked again.

“Yes,” B’Elanna said, “We both worked with Mike on a number of post-Katrina projects there a few years ago. When it looked like ‘Rick’ was going to come here, he called us.”

“We pre-positioned on the west side of Mobile, but they only let us into Florida yesterday,” Chakotay added. 

Kathryn stood silently. Now that her concern that he might be a scam artist has diminished, she found herself once again preoccupied with how handsome Chakotay was.

Plus, he was so … clean. Three days after "Rick” had hit, no one in town was clean. Least of all herself.

If it had been any other time, Kathryn would have felt quite self-conscious of her own state of filth. But it was *now*, and she had many, many more sweaty, grimy, smelly hours of hard labor in front of her before she could enjoy a shower or a bath again.

And if he was truly here to help, so did Chakotay.

Putting aside her vanity, she reached out to offer him her hand. 

“Welcome to Voyager,” she said with a smile. “We will be happy to take you to Mike.”

“Oh, we don’t want to take you away from your work,” Chakotay replied.

Kathryn shrugged and said, “It’s time for my lunch break anyway. And since Mike happens to be camping at the same location I am, one of our fire stations, I can take you to him while I take myself to an MRE.”

Harry added, “And you’ll never find the community center or the fire station if one of us doesn’t take you.”

“Mike tried sending us directions,” Chakotay said with some doubt in his voice, “but ….”

“But directions are no good in a place where all the street signs have been ripped away and all the usual landmarks have been swept into the Gulf,” Kathryn finished for him with a resigned chuckle.


	3. Chapter 3

The two trucks containing Kathryn and Harry, and Chakotay and B’Elanna, pulled up to the somewhat-cleared stretch of road in front of the Fire Station. Kathryn had planned on escorting the visitors inside, but instead flew out of the truck when she spotted Mike in a blood-soaked shirt sitting on an upturned cooler near the fire engine.

“What the hell, Mike?” Kathryn asked as she ran over to examine him. But she was met with a hand-to-the-face – the hand belonging to local pediatrician Joe Zimmerman.

“Ms. Janeway, step back, you are in my light,” he said, never taking his eyes off his careful suturing of Mike’s wound.

Kathryn gave Dr. Zimmerman an irritated look, then leaned over to catch Mike’s eye. She repeated, “What the hell, Mike?”

“I got stabbed by a pine branch,” he said with a wince. “Tom and I were cutting fallen trees at the east end of Highway 98, and a branch that was being held in place by … I don’t know, something we were cutting … sprang back and lodged in my arm. Hurt like hell. If Tom hadn’t been there, to wrap the wound and get me in the truck, I might have passed out.”

“Yes, Mr. Paris is a hero who missed his calling to trauma medicine,” Dr. Zimmerman said impatiently. “This is the third puncture wound I have sutured this morning, and I am running out of supplies.”

He turned and looked towards Kathryn but focused instead on Harry approaching with two strangers.

“Oh, good, more volunteers,” the doctor said dryly. “Please tell me they brought their own medical supplies.”

“Volunteers?” Mike asked, and he leaned over to see who was approaching. When he spotted Chakotay and B’Elanna, he broke into a wide grin.

“Hey! You made it!” he called to his two friends.

“Bar fight?” B’Elanna asked with a grin as she approached him.

“You should see the other guy, he got the business end of my chainsaw,” Mike replied, reaching to take her hand with an affectionate smile. Then he looked at Chakotay and said, “Speaking of chainsaws, you know not to touch mine, right, Chakotay? There are no functioning hardware stores within 50 miles, I can’t replace all the stuff I know you are going to break when you decide to take it out for a spin.”

Chakotay reached over to smack Mike’s head and laughed.

“I have *one* problem with *one* chainsaw almost 15 years ago -- one that you failed to maintain, by the way -- and you still talk about it. You need new material!”

Mike swung lightly at Chakotay and missed, unable to reach him with D. Zimmerman still stitching his wound.

“Now that you two are here, I know I’ll get it. That’s why I asked you to come, for the entertainment value!”

B’Elanna looked at Chakotay in mock outrage and said, “Well, now I’m insulted. Come on, Old Man, let’s find a town where our help will be appreciated.”

“Don’t you dare leave!” Mike said firmly. At that moment, the Doctor finished his work on Mike’s arm and motioned for him to go see his friends. Mike stood and, with his good arm, embraced B’Elanna first, then Chakotay.

“God, it’s so good to see you both, you are so needed here,” he said, his voice breaking a tiny bit. As he reached to hug B’Elanna again, a couple of tears slid down his face.

Kathryn had been watching the exchange between Mike and his friends with amusement, but now felt she was intruding.

“Mike,” she called gently, “If you are OK now, I am going to run inside and leave you with your friends.”

But Mike help up a hand to stop her.

“Actually, Kathryn, I need you to do something for me, if you can. The City crew has been going over the list of residents we still know nothing about, and someone needs to do a well-check on Miss Eula Crossett at her house on the marsh.”

“She didn’t evacuate?” Kathryn asked with some surprise.

Mike shook his head and said, “Apparently not. Last anyone heard of her, she told Officer Durst that her house stood during Hurricane Gene in the 70’s, and she wasn’t about to let 'Rick' chase her out of her home. That was about 20 hours before landfall.”

Mike sighed and added, “I would go check myself, but I have a feeling the Doc will object.”

“I do,” Dr. Zimmerman affirmed from a few feet away.

“I can go, Mike, it’s no problem,” Kathryn said. But as she turned to head towards her truck, Mike spoke again.

“I would prefer if you took someone with you, like maybe Chakotay, he's right here and I trust him,” he said. Then, seeing the objection forming on Kathryn’s lips, he added, “Remember, her house is right on the edge of Cardie territory.”

Kathryn bit back the retort she had started at Mike’s suggestion. He was right.

“I would be happy to help,” Chakotay said, “but could I ask what you mean by ‘Cardie territory’?”

Kathryn sighed and said, “It’s less a territory and more a campground. The Cardona family -- people around here call them 'the Cardies' because it annoys them -- the Cardonas have roots in this part of Florida going back to the first Spanish explorers. Over the years, they’ve lost a lot of the land their family once owned, save about one-hundred acres that run along the Dorvan river down to the estuary.”

“And they act like the whole river and all the tidelands belong to them,” Mike added.

“And … and they get pretty … expressive … when someone they don’t like gets close to their property,” Kathryn said reluctantly.

To which Mike added, “And they hate you. So you are taking Chakotay.”


	4. Chapter 4

Kathryn grabbed a peanut butter sandwich and a bottle of water from the firehouse and got in Chakotay’s truck. He offered to drive since he had four-wheel drive and Kathryn’s City of Voyager truck did not.

“You going to have time to eat that?” he asked his guest.

Kathryn’s mouth was full of peanut butter, so she only nodded. Chakotay chuckled and headed in the direction Kathryn pointed him.

She glanced at him a couple of times as she ate. Nice face. Nice shoulders. Nice hair. This was an attractive man she was with, no question.

But when he smiled, damn. Dimples.

Chakotay turned to her and saw her looking at him and smiled. Kathryn turned her eyes back to the road, blushing a bit.

Chakotay grinned. He had caught her checking him out!

That happened sometimes, he was used to it. But … huh. It had been a while since he had liked the attention. And he found that he liked it from this woman.

He glanced at her. Despite the layer of grime covering her, he could see she was beautiful. She had a crooked smile … could he make her smile again? He wanted to see that crooked smile, he wanted another look at those blue eyes.

“I appreciate your help with this, Mr. Chakotay,” Kathryn offered as she finished her sandwich and directed him to turn down a sandy stretch of road off the highway.

“It’s just Chakotay,” he replied.

Kathryn’s brow furrowed and she asked, “So Chakotay is your first name, then?”

He shook his head in response and said, “No, it’s *only* Chakotay. It’s both my first and last name. But not, like, ‘Chakotay Chakotay,’ it’s just ‘Chakotay.’”

Kathryn said, “Oh, it’s just one word.”

“Just the one,” he replied with a smile.

Kathryn took a long drink of her water.

“Like ‘Cher,’” she eventually said.

Chakotay looked sideways a her. Was she teasing him?

“Or ‘Bono,’” he replied as he slowed the truck to get around an old compact Toyota lying upside down in the road.

Kathryn looked carefully at the car as they passed it.

“I don’t think anyone would have been in that car, it’s got all the stickers and paint from the used car lot on Main Street.”

As Chakotay got past the car, Kathryn added, “Or ‘Madonna.’”

“Or ‘Sting,’” Chakotay replied quickly.

Kathryn looked at him, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Or ‘Pink,’” she said coyly.

“Or ‘Prince,’” he shot back with a challenging look and a smile.

“Oh, I miss Prince,” Kathryn said with a sigh. 

Chakotay grinned, believing he had won.

“You know, I think B’Elanna had some Prince songs on her playlist, you want to hear some music?” he asked.

Kathryn nodded and reached forward to turn on the MP3 player hooked to the stereo.

The loud noise that shot out of the speakers wasn’t “1999” or “Little Red Corvette” or even “7even.” It wasn’t even Prince. 

Nope, it was the J. Geils Band screeching, “LOVE STINKS! YEAH, YEAH!”

Chakotay quickly turned down the volume and said, “Sorry. B’Elanna and I were … uh, we were kind of having an angry sing-along on the way here.”

“Angry sing-along?” Kathryn asked with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, she and I both got out of bad relationships in the last year, and, uh, we vented,” Chakotay said with some embarrassment.

“Oh,” Kathryn replied as she nodded her head. “So the two of you aren’t together?”

“Oh, no, absolutely not,” Chakotay said with a grimace. “I mean, she’s a beautiful girl, but she’s like my sister or something. So, no, uh-uh.”

Kathryn pointed towards a crushed shell and gravel-covered drive and said, “The Crossett property is down that lane.”

Chakotay looked own the drive and saw a number of trees down.

“I don’t think my truck will make it, we will need to go the rest of the way on foot,” he said and he stopped the truck.

Kathryn took at deep breath as she and her new acquaintance got out of the vehicle to go check on Miss Eula. But even as she focused on getting through piles of debris, and she hoped fervently that the would find the elderly woman well and rocking on her porch, she couldn’t help one thought that shot quickly through her mind.

“They aren’t together,” she mused. “Interesting.”


	5. Chapter 5

As Kathryn and Chakotay neared Miss Eula’s house, the heaviness of the Florida humidity began to weigh on both of them.

Or maybe it was the task before them.

They each caught glimpses of the small house atop tall stilts as they worked their way through fallen trees, tangles of ropes and Spanish moss, and the remains of old boat docks. What they could see of the structure was pretty bad.

Kathryn didn’t even realize she was talking until she heard her words.

“Miss Eula told me once that this was her family’s fishing camp when she was a little girl. She’s lived here since her father died back in the early ‘70’s. She loved it here – she loved the trees back here, she loved the fishing.”

Chakotay replied quietly, “I think the house was built high up enough off the water to escape the worst of the storm surge. But I think the trees … might have done a lot of damage.”

They finally came out into a small clearing next to the house and Kathryn couldn’t help but gasp. There were at least four heavy trees down on it. One, a 100-year-plus oak tree that Miss Eula was particularly fond of, had been uprooted by Rick’s winds and fallen onto the house, almost bisecting it.

“Oh, no,” Kathryn whispered. Then she ran to rickety wooded stairs that led to the porch high off the ground. Chakotay followed close behind.

“Eula? Miss Eula, are you here?” she yelled. But just as they reached the porch, both Kathryn and Chakotay were stopped by two things.

First, a dog ran from the open front door barking and snapping at the intruders. It was feisty for its size, little more than a puppy. It looked to be an Irish Setter. 

The other thing that stopped them was heartbreakingly familiar – the smell of death

“Whoa, puppy dog, it’s OK, it’s OK,” Kathryn said soothingly as she slowly sat on the top step. But she was already starting to tear up.

Chakotay knelt in front of the dog and held out his hand for it to smell. The puppy eyed him warily, then approached him for a sniff. After a minute or so, Chakotay began to tentatively stroke the dog’s head.

“Good girl, good girl,” he said softly to the little dog.

“Girl?” Kathryn queried.

As Chakotay scratched the puppy’s ears, he pulled one hand down to the collar on its neck. There was a small, red medallion hanging from it that said, “Molly.”

Kathryn smiled, carefully scooted closer to the dog and began stroking her. Molly, apparently having decided that these two people weren’t so bad, had settled down and consented to the petting.

“Hey, sweet girl. Are you by yourself? Is Miss Eula your momma? Is she inside?” Kathryn asked the dog in a soft voice. Then she added, “Miss Eula had talked about getting a dog, and I told her how wonderful setters are. I didn’t know she had decided to get one, though.”

Chakotay stood slowly and moved toward the door. Molly turned her head to watch him and whined slightly.

“Kathryn, why don’t you stay here with the dog and I will check inside? I have a bottle of water in my backpack, see if the puppy is thirsty,” Chakotay said.

Kathryn shook her head slightly and replied, “No, I should be the one to check, it’s my responsibility.”

Chakotay squatted down so his face was closer to level with Kathryn’s.

“I think we both have an idea of what is to be found in there,” he said gently. “She was a friend of yours – no one should have to see a friend, or anyone they care about, in that condition. Let me do this, I will be OK.”

Kathryn sighed. She didn’t want to appear weak, but she knew her new friend was correct. She had seen death before, long before, and she really didn’t want to see how Miss Eula had met hers.

So she nodded in acquiescence.

Chakotay reached into his backpack for a flashlight and his phone.

“I am taking this,” he said as he held up his phone, “to take pictures to show your coroner. Can you tell me what to look for? What did she look like? Any features I should look for to verify identity?”

“She had long, silvery-gray hair that she always had in a braid. She always wore an old Timex watch with a black leather band. She only ever wore white Nikes,” Kathryn said listlessly.

Then, strangely, she chuckled.

“And her fingernails will be garnet and gold,” she added with a grim smile.

Chakotay looked at her questioningly.

“She was a huge Florida State fan,” Kathryn said with a small shrug, “and I saw her coming out of the nail salon last Saturday.”


	6. Chapter 6

Chakotay spent about fifteen minutes in the house. Kathryn sat cross-legged on the porch letting Molly the dog lap up small amounts of water from her hand. She sighed, leaned her head against the half-broken porch railing, and looked out at woods that surrounded Miss Eula’s house.

It was quiet out here near the Dorvan River. Kathryn closed her eyes and tried to remember what this plot of land had looked like before Hurricane Rick came. It was wild then, but beautiful, and not trashed like it was now.

Kathryn opened her eyes again and looked towards the river. The air was thick with flying insects – “love bugs,” the people of Voyager called them. It wasn’t just a cute name, it was a behavioral descriptor. Almost all the insects were flying in pairs, males and females paired up and mating.

They were everywhere. In the air, in people’s faces, smashed against the front grills and windshields of cars. Kathryn wondered if the hurricane had brought them, she hadn’t noticed them before the storm.

At that moment, she kind of hated them.

“I think I’m done.”

Chakotay had come out of the house. The grim look on his face told Kathryn all she needed to know, but she asked anyway.

“Miss Eula?”

Chakotay nodded.

Kathryn sighed and pulled the puppy into her lap.

“She didn’t suffer,” Chakotay offered. “Broken neck killed her. She was right under that tree that went through the house. I doubt she even knew what hit her.”

Kathryn shook her head and replied, “At least there’s that.”

There was more to it, though. Chakotay had noticed a couple of things, things that didn't make sense. He had taken several pictures and would need to show them to to a coroner or police officer, someone. After that, he would tell Kathryn.

Chakotay reached into his bag and took out a can of spray paint. He painted a large “X” on the side of the house – the “FEMA X,” ever-present in hurricane disaster zones, a message to any searchers who might approach the property later telling what was inside. In the top quadrant, he put the day’s date. In the bottom quadrant, he painted “1 DB,” which Kathryn knew meant “one dead body.”

In the left quadrant, he sprayed “Voy,” which referred to the City of Voyager – he was indicating that it was Voyager officials who had checked the house. Then, in the right quadrant, he wrote “1 dog – resc,” which meant there had been one dog in the house and it had been removed.

Kathryn watched him, her eyes continuing to drift back to the code “1 DB.”

She had known, of course, that people in her new hometown had died. But this was *proof* of it. And it was someone she knew and liked.

She suddenly felt extraordinarily guilty.

“Excuse me,” she said and she bounded down the steps to the ground below. Chakotay grabbed Molly to keep her from running off and leaned over the railing to see where Kathryn had gone.

He spotted her at the base of a mangled tree, kneeling on the ground, vomiting.

Chakotay froze. He had a sudden flashback of memory – the sound of Kathryn’s retching taking him back nearly 15 years, to a different horrific discovery and his own sickened reaction.

He felt his face burning. It wasn’t the heat and humidity, it was the memory. He was falling into it again, he had to stop the fall, he couldn’t go down that hole again.

Something cool on his face brought him back to the present.

Molly was licking his face. She was pawing at Chakotay’s shoulder, licking his cheek and around his nose and left eye.

Chakotay let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. This dog needed him in the present. His friend Mike and the people of Voyager needed him in the present.

He looked back toward the tree and Kathryn. This interesting woman he had just met, she needed Chakotay in the present, too. He couldn’t lose himself in the past, not now, not again. Not ever again.

He made his way carefully down the steps. Kathryn was now standing, leaning against the tree.

Chakotay didn’t say anything, just handed her the bottle of water she’d opened earlier. She accepted it with a nod and rinsed out her mouth. 

They walked quietly back to the truck.

When the three of them were settled inside, Chakotay tuned the truck's air conditioning on high. He nodded towards the glove compartment and said, “There’s some chewing gum in there. The mint flavor will help settle your stomach, and your mouth will feel a little more normal. And the lingering smell in your nose will abate a little.”

She opened the compartment – there must have been 30 packs of gum shoved in there.

“That’s a lot of gum,” Kathryn said as she took two sticks and shoved them in her mouth.

“It is,” Chakotay said. After a few moments of silence, he added, “After a storm like this … the things you are going to see … well … there are a lot of reasons people are going to need mint gum.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I changed the references to Chakotay's previous trauma from 20 years ago to 15. So, if it wasn't clear before, it should be now -- Chakotay was in Katrina.
> 
> No clue why I wrote it as 20 years ago, my bad.

The drive back to the fire house was quiet. 

Kathryn stared out the truck window as she held Molly still in her lap. Chakotay turned on the radio at one point, but there was no music to be heard. Just local stations reporting grim statistics about the dead and missing, the locations of food and water giveaways, and reports of the various “thoughts and prayers” messages being sent to the people of Florida’s Gulf Coast.

At that, Kathryn scoffed. She didn’t resent the idea of “thoughts and prayers,” but it seemed so feeble when her community needed so much.

Thoughts and prayers couldn’t bring Miss Eula back. Thoughts and prayers weren’t going to rebuild her town. Thoughts and prayers, plus another two sticks of chewing gum, couldn't get that smell out of her nose.

She kept turning to look at destroyed property after destroyed property. A gas station. A souvenir stand. Someone’s home – she didn’t even know whose it was, just that the roof was half gone, the water line from the storm surge was higher than the front windows, and there was an upturned swing set in the side yard. Kids had lived there.

All these places that held lives and memories and happiness had been wiped away by the storm surge or buried under debris.

She grimaced, making a slight groaning noise. She was the City Administrator of a city that barely existed. She closed her eyes and set her jaw, sighing angrily.

Chakotay glanced at her. He recognized the bitterness and self-recrimination starting to rise up in her.

“May I call you Kathryn?” he asked.

She turned to him blankly, “What?”

“May I call you Kathryn?” he repeated. “You were introduced to me as ‘Kathryn,’ but I never asked if I could call you by your first name.”

She shook her head in confusion and answered, “Of course, why wouldn’t you?”

Chakotay shrugged and said, “I’ve lived in New Orleans since I was a teenager, and I learned ‘Southern manners.’ You do not call a lady by her first name with out her permission. I slipped up back at Miss Eula’s house, but I would like to ask your preference now.”

Despite her dark mood, Kathryn’s mouth relaxed to an almost-smile

 _He called me a “lady,_ ” she thought with a little bit of amusement.

“Yes, please, call me Kathryn,” she replied. Then she sighed.

Chakotay nodded his head in acceptance then said, “Kathryn, you seem like the kind of person who likes ‘doing,’ not the kind of person who waits to be told what to do. Am I correct?”

“Basically,” she answered. “I do have a tendency to want to act rather than react.”

“And ‘Rick’ is putting you in the terrible position of *only* reacting?” Chakotay asked.

Kathryn leaned back in her seat, still absently stroking the dog.

“I guess,” she said, sounding uncertain.

The truck pulled into the parking lot next to the fire house, and Chakotay switched off the motor. He turned in his seat to look at his companion.

“When Katrina hit New Orleans,” he said, “it attacked our very souls. Everywhere I turned, all I could see was death and destruction. It was everywhere, all-encompassing. There was nothing I could look at that didn’t tell the horrible truth – my home had been brutalized. People I cared about had died. Places I loved had disappeared. It was too much.”

Kathryn listened to him, wide-eyed. She should have guessed he’d experienced Katrina, but hearing him talk about it nearly stopped her breathing.

Chakotay continued, “I am also a ‘doer,’ not someone who likes to just react. And all you could do in the early days after Katrina was react. It wasn’t living, it was surviving.”

Kathryn, still rapt at his words, nodded slowly.

“You *are* going to be able to ‘do’ again, Kathryn, I promise,” he said earnestly. “You will be able to plan and lead and ‘do,’ just like you want to right now. But you need to give yourself permission to *not* do those things right now. You need to give yourself permission to react, to mourn, and to be totally unprepared for the next thing that hits you. It’s not who you are, I get that. But I promise you, if you blame yourself for every death or you use up all your strength trying to control the chaos, you won’t be any good to anyone, least of all yourself.”

Chakotay tentatively placed his hand on hers, the one that was resting on Molly’s back.

“Small bites, Kathryn,” he said. “Find a way to be satisfied with small bites and tiny victories. Voyager is looking at years of recovery. Every little step in that direction is worth being proud of.”

He squeezed her hand and looked towards the fire house.

“There are two steps to take right now,” Chakotay said. “We need to let the authorities know about Miss Eula, and we need to find some food and a leash for Miss Molly here. Will you let me help you with that?”

Kathryn turned her hand over so that her palm faced Chakotay’s and she squeezed his hand back.

“I will,” she replied softly. “Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

B’Elanna and Mike turned to see Kathryn and Chakotay, plus a little dog, walk up to the fire house. They had been talking with two men who Chakotay had not seen before, a middle-aged Black man and a younger blonde man.

Kathryn’s pace picked up a little when she saw the two men with Mike and B’Elanna.

“Chief Tuvok,” she said, reaching out to shake the older man’s hand.

“Ms. Janeway,” he replied gravely. He looked at the man with her and asked, “I assume this is our other visitor from New Orleans, Mr. Chakotay?”

Kathryn turned towards Chakotay and replied, “Yes. He is an old friend of Mike’s, and he was kind enough to accompany me to check on Eula Crossett’s place when Mike couldn’t.”

Chief Tuvok nodded at Chakotay then looked back at Kathryn.

“Did you find Miss Crossett?” he asked.

Kathryn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked down at the Irish Setter puppy by her side.

“We did find her,” Chakotay said, jumping in when Kathryn didn’t answer. “I am sorry to tell you she had passed.”

“Damn,” the younger man with B’Elanna and Mike said. He put his hand on his hips and kicked the sandy ground in frustration.

“What, Tom, something happen?” asked Harry Kim as he walked up with Dr. Zimmerman.

Tom shook his head and simply said, “Miss Eula.”

The group stood silently for a moment, the Voyagers reflecting on the death of one of their own.

Finally, Dr. Zimmerman asked Kathryn, “I hate to be macabre, but could you tell me about the manner of her death? Chief Tuvok and I can start the paperwork, but we need some information.”

Again, Chakotay spoke up, saying, “I took a few pictures for that very reason. It looks like … I think she died instantly from her injuries, it looks like a broken neck. Perhaps we could step over here out of the direct sunlight, and I could show you …?”

The Doctor and Tuvok nodded and the three men walked to a shaded area.

“You OK, Katie?” Tom asked Kathryn.

“I am,” she replied with a sigh. Then she looked at Mike and B’Elanna.

“Your friend Chakotay, I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Once we were out there and realized what we were going to find, he really stepped up to help me. He … he is the one who went in to look for her. I just sat outside with the dog. I … I couldn’t do it.”

Kathryn wiped away a tear that had insisted on falling and added, “I really am a wimp.”

Mike stepped over to embrace her and said forcefully, “No, you aren’t. I would have sat outside with the dog, too. No one should have to see the three-day-old corpse of a friend if they don’t have to.”

Kathryn accepted Mike’s hug and words gratefully. She knew he wasn’t just saying that to make her feel better. She also knew he and Miss Eula had been buddies.

“I am sorry, Mike, you and Eula were pals, I know,” she said as she stepped away from him.

Mike nodded, his eyes red.

“We were. I hate to know she’s gone,” he replied. Then he smiled a little and said, “That woman was one-in-a-million. She lived a long, amazing life.”

They were all quiet again until Tom added, “And she could drink you under a table.”

After a beat, they all burst out laughing.

“Oh, she could, she really could,” Mike said with a smile.

“Did you ever play poker with her?” Harry asked.

Kathryn, Mike, and Tom all groaned.

“I take that as a ‘yes,’” B’Elanna said, grinning.

Kathryn shook her head and said, “Oh, you have no idea. She was notorious. One of the first things I learned when I came to Voyager was that Miss Eula, plus cards, plus vodka, equaled significant money loss.”

“But the stories she would tell would almost be worth it,” Tom said fondly.

“Yeah,” Mike said softly.

B’Elanna clapped her hands and said, “Well, this calls for one thing and one thing only.”

The others looked at her with some confusion.

“I would like the honor of knowing this Miss Eula,” B’Elanna said, “and I know there is a bottle of Smirnoff in Chakotay’s truck. Since Chakotay and I plan to pitch our tents in this parking lot tonight, why don’t all of you stop by our campfire this evening to raise a glass to your friend. And you can tell us her stories. I bet she’d like that.”

The Voyagers all nodded slowly in agreement.

“I bet she would,” Kathryn agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

While Kathryn, Mike, and the others were talking about Miss Eula’s life, Chakotay was sharing concerns he had about her death with Dr. Zimmerman and Chief of Police Tuvok.

As the Doctor and officer scrolled through the pictures on Chakotay’s phone, explained what he had seen.

“There was enough light coming in through the breaks in the roof and the windows that I didn’t need my flashlight, but I did shine it on a couple of spots, like her neck. The bruising there and the odd angle her head’s at, well, it seemed like a broken neck to me,” he said.

“I agree,” the Doctor said.

“But it’s a twist injury, not a crush injury,” Tuvok said as he zoomed in on one photos.

Chakotay nodded.

“That’s part of it. There also was no tree debris on the upper part of her body, like there is on her thighs and knees. When that tree fell on her house, it fell on her but it didn’t break her neck.”

He took his phone from Tuvok and said, “But here’s the rest of it.” He scrolled through the pictures until he came to a close-up he took of one of her legs. He zoomed in and showed it to the other two men.

“Look at this. This is a compound fracture of her tibia. There’s no blood or discoloration at all. It is almost like …”

The Doctor snatched the phone and said, “Like she was already dead when the tree hit her.”

Chakotay nodded gravely.

Dr. Zimmerman and Chief Tuvok looked at the photo closely. Then Tuvok looked at Chakotay.

“Did you see anything that could explain her neck injury?” he asked.

Chakotay sighed and shook his head. He said, “This is why I wanted to show these pictures to you as quickly as possible. There was no damage in her house that I could see causing a broken neck like that. And based on where she was in the house, I didn’t see anything that would indicate a pre-storm accident or even suicide.”

“I highly doubt Miss Crossett was suicidal,” Dr. Zimmerman said. “I saw her the day before the storm hit, she was her normal, feisty self.”

“I agree,” Tuvok said. “And if she didn’t injure herself ….”

“… then someone did it to her,” Chakotay finished. “I think someone killed your neighbor and hoped the storm would cover it up.”

The three men stood in silence. Now that Chakotay had verbalized it what they had all been thinking, they all felt a new anxiety, one totally separate from the hell of Voyager’s post-Rick reality.

Tuvok took a deep breath and asked, “Dr. Zimmerman, do you have a couple of hours to spare? I would like you, a couple of officers and I to get over to Miss Crossett’s and try to do a decent investigation before the sun sets. If Mr. Chakotay is correct, we have a serious problem.”

“If Chakotay is correct about what? What problem?”

Kathryn had walked up to the three men and heard Chief Tuvok’s last words.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Janeway,” Tuvok said with a slight nod.

“What’s the problem, Chief?” she asked again with narrowed eyes.

Chakotay sighed and said, “I am afraid I wasn’t totally honest with you about what I found in Miss Eula’s home.”

Kathryn’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Honest about what? You did find her, and she was dead, right?”

“It appears Miss Crossett was killed prior to the storm,” Dr. Zimmerman said abruptly. “It appears someone killed her, that she was murdered. Mr. Chakotay saw the signs when he went to check on her, and he showed the photos he took to the Chief and me. We agree with his assessment.”

Kathryn stared open-mouthed at the men for a moment.

“Murdered?” she gasped. The men nodded.

She turned away from them, one hand on a hip and one on her mouth. But after a few moments, she turned back to them, her eyes wide and clear … and angry.

“Murdered?” she asked again, this time almost spitting the word out.

“And now we are going to take a team over there right now to look for evidence of what happened,” Tuvok replied. “Until we complete that examination and know more, I would appreciate it if you would keep this quiet. There is too much going on right now to upset anyone with speculation.”

With that, he directed the Doctor towards a police truck and the two walked away.

Kathryn rounded on Chakotay.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you thought she had been murdered?” she demanded angrily.

Chakotay held up his hands as though in self-defense and said, “I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, and I didn’t know you or your relationship with the deceased. I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.”

“So you decided to hold onto that information until, what, until you found some men to share it with?” she replied bitterly.

“No,” Chakotay responded firmly, “I hung onto it until I found a physician who could tell me if I was correctly interpreting what I was seeing, and a police officer who could investigate.”

His response made sense, Kathryn thought bitterly. But still ….

“Murdered?” she asked again, sounding bewildered.

“Possibly,” Chakotay replied. “Probably. I think so, yes. And I am sorry.”

Kathryn stared at him, then walked away.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun had set when Chief Tuvok and Dr. Zimmerman returned to the Fire House. They found Chakotay getting dinner at Mrs. Kim’s tent at the Lot and filled him in on what they’d found.

“Your instincts were correct, she had been dead for at least a couple of hours when the tree fell on her,” the Doctor said.

Chakotay sighed and replied, “I had hoped I was wrong.”

“We did also,” Tuvok said, “but as you weren’t, we appreciate your notifying us about it. Now we have an investigation to conduct.”

“Was anything missing from her home that you could tell?” Chakotay asked. 

At that, the Chief and the Doctor glanced at each other, exchanging grave looks.

“We do not believe robbery was the motive,” Tuvok said slowly.

Dr. Zimmerman shook his head and added, “Eula had enemies.”

Chakotay was surprised by this. The picture Kathryn and Mike had painted for him of Miss Crossett was that of spirited, albeit quirky, older lady – one who apparently loved baking cookies for the kids at Mike’s after-school tutoring programs as much as she liked shooting pool and whiskey at The Dock Bar, a dingy watering hold favored by Voyager’s shrimpers.

Seeing the confusion on Chakotay’s face, the Doctor offered, “You might want to talk with Ms. Janeway about it – I believe Mr. Ayala asked you to accompany her to check on Eula because of her proximity to the Cardona family’s property. That’s also where Miss Eula’s story gets ugly.”

Chakotay remembered the how tense Mike’s face got when he mentioned “Cardie territory” earlier that day – maybe Mike was the one to ask. Chakotay wasn’t certain Kathryn Janeway was speaking to him at that moment.

\------------

At that moment, Kathryn was in the small utility closet that the fire station staff had set aside as her “bedroom.” She was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag, with Molly the puppy at her side.

Leaning back against the metal shelving that lined the closet walls, Kathryn took a deep breath and looked at the dog.

“I’m sorry, Molly,” she said. “Your mom, your person, was a friend of mine. I should have made sure she was going to leave.”

Molly listened to Kathryn attentively.

“I can’t believe she didn’t leave,” Kathryn continued with a sniff. “Maybe if I had gone to check on her … well, she still probably wouldn’t have left. I don’t know if you had a chance to really get to know her, but your person was pretty stubborn. But maybe, if I had been there, I could have helped her when … whatever happened.”

Molly, sensing Kathryn’s grief, began nudging the woman’s hand with her snout. She hadn’t been around very many people in her few months of life, but she had learned that most humans seemed to feel better after petting her.

Kathryn began absently stroking the dog’s head, then more deliberately. She scratched around Molly’s floppy ears and then pulled the puppy into her lap.

“Well, little Molly, I can’t change what happened. But I will make sure you are taken care of, don’t you worry.”

Molly licked Kathryn’s face in response. 

“Uh, hi, Ms. Janeway?”

Kathryn and Molly looked up to see B’Elanna standing at the door. She was carrying several bags.

“Yes, Ms. … Ms. Torres was it?” Kathryn replied.

“Oh, please, call me B’Elanna,” the younger woman said with a smile. She held up one of the bags she was carrying and said, “We found some food for the puppy.”

“Oh, good,” Kathryn said as she moved Molly from her lap and stood up. She took the bag and looked in it. There were a couple of plastic mixing bowls, a small bag of puppy food, and a liter bottle of water. There was even a leash.

“Apparently, there is a veterinarian set up at the Lot with supplies for people’s pets,” B’Elanna said. “We told her about little Molly. She sent this over and said for you to bring her by tomorrow for a quick check.”

“That must be Dr. Kes, thank you so much,” Kathryn said with a large smile. She turned to Molly and asked, “Are you hungry, girl?”

Molly’s tail began wagging.

As Kathryn knelt to the ground to pour the dog some food and water, B’Elanna spoke again.

“Um, Mike actually sent me in here to room with you,” she said, sounding a little awkward.

“Oh, OK,” Kathryn said, looking around the small room. “Yeah, there’s room.”

“If you aren’t comfortable, I promise I can stay in the tent with Chakotay,” B’Elanna offered quickly.

“Nonsense,” Kathryn replied. “Everyone else at the Fire House has been doubling and tripling up, I have felt terrible taking all this space myself. But the guys were insistent since I was the only female currently staying here.”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes and said, “Mike and Chakotay insist that’s why they want me to stay in the building instead of the tent, that whole ‘chivalry’ thing. I actually think they want to be able to sit up all night and catch up on their ‘guy talk.’”

“’Guy talk’ can take all night?” Kathryn asked with a wry smile and raised eyebrows.

B’Elanna chuckled and said, “With those two, it can.”


	11. Chapter 11

After Molly ate and B’Elanna set up her sleeping mat, Kathryn took all of them to the fire pit in the vacant lot that joined the Fire House to the Lot. This was where the Voyagers would have their “vodka and stories” remembrance of Miss Eula.

Chief Tuvok, Dr. Zimmerman, and Chakotay were walking over carrying sandwiches and bottled water from the Lot. Seeing the two women with the dog, Chakotay walked to them and held up a bag.

“Mrs. Kim sent you two cheese sandwiches, a can of lentils, a couple of apples, and some water.”

B’Elanna took the bag and asked Chakotay, “You got the camping gear out, the cook wear? We can heat these lentils over the fire.”

“Yep, plus the bowls and utensils,” Chakotay answered. “Red bag just inside the tent.”

B’Elanna smiled at Kathryn and walked over to the tent.

Chakotay looked carefully at Kathryn, unsure of her mood. She looked back at him and smiled slightly.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said.

He nodded. He began to say something else, but the Doctor and the Chief walked up at that moment.

“Ms. Janeway, I assume you want to know what we found at the Crossett place?” Tuvok said.

Kathryn glanced at Chakotay, then looked back at Tuvok.

“I do,” she said. She attached the leash to a tree and led the men back into the Fire House, where there was better lighting. And privacy.

Dr. Zimmerman took out a laptop and powered it up.

“I have about half-an-hour of battery life left, so we need to make this quick,” he said as he took a memory card out of a small digital camera and inserted in a port on the computer. 

As the Doctor worked to open the files, Chief asked Kathryn, “You are certain you want to see these images?”

With a look at Chakotay, Kathryn nodded grimly and said, “I do.”

Dr. Zimmerman put his laptop into tablet mode and picked it up. He began scrolling through the images for Kathryn and Chakotay.

“What we saw basically confirmed what Mr. Chakotay thought – that the injury to Miss Crossett’s neck, while fatal, happened some time before the tree landed on her home. Based on when I estimate her time of death to be, and the time frame of the storm, we think she must have been killed a couple of hours before Rick made landfall.”

Kathryn looked at the photos intently, and Chakotay looked at her. Whatever inner turmoil she must have been feeling seeing her friend in this condition, she didn’t show it on her face.

As the Doctor came to close-up pictures of the deceased woman’s hands, Kathryn turned to Tuvok.

“Eula might have been older, but she was tough. She would have out up a fight. Did you check her fingernails for skin or blood or fibers?”

Tuvok nodded and said, “Dr. Zimmerman scraped under each nail, we have the samples locked up. But we have no idea when we can get them to a lab.”

Kathryn turned back to the images. She was looking for … something. Anything. But it was what she didn’t see that caught her eye.

“Wait,” she said as the Doctor moved past a picture of the inside of the Crossett cabin. When he returned to the previous image, Kathryn took the device from him and zoomed in.

“Where is it?” she mumbled.

“Where is what?” Chakotay asked. “Is something missing?”

Kathryn, still staring at the picture, answered “Her sextant.”

“Sextant?” Dr. Zimmerman asked.

“Eula had this old, brass sextant on her wall, next to the bookshelf,” she said. “Here, she had it hanging right here.”

Kathryn moved the image to show the spot on the wall where the device once hung.

She looked up at Chief Tuvok and asked, “Did you see anything like it on the floor? I guess it could have been knocked down when the tree landed on the house. But the picture that hung right below it is still hanging.”

Tuvok shook his head and said, “I do not recall seeing anything like that anywhere. Was it valuable? Nothing else was missing, including some very nice pieces of jewelry and a couple of hundred dollars in cash in her purse.”

Kathryn didn’t answer, she was still staring at the image of the wall. Eventually she started speaking softly.

“Eula decides to stay in a home that survived Hurricane Gene – no one knew she was going to stay. She is killed by someone a couple of hours before Hurricane Rick comes ashore. It doesn’t appear she was robbed, there were valuables left alone. But an old family heirloom, a sextant more than 300 years old, disappears.”

Kathryn then looked at the three men with her.

“Why did she die? Why did someone kill her?”


	12. Chapter 12

Chief Tuvok had taken the memory card from Dr. Zimmerman to the trailer the Voyager police were using as temporary headquarters. The Doctor went to clean up, saying he would meet the group back at the fire pit for dinner and Miss Eula’s remembrance.

Chakotay walked with Kathryn outside.

“I really am sorry I didn’t tell you my suspicions,” Chakotay said.

Kathryn sighed and said, “It’s all right, Chakotay. You don’t know me, you had no idea how that information might have affected me. If I had been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing.”

She sighed again and added, “I am the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I basically accused you of being a chauvinist, all because you did something I didn’t like. That’s not the person I try to be.”

Chakotay quickly replied, “You have nothing to apologize for. Believe me, I have been where you are. Everything in your life has been upended. It takes a while to feel like yourself again. Believe me, in the days after Katrina hit, I had daily bouts of not being myself.”

Kathryn stopped walking and turned to him.

“So were you actually in New Orleans when Katrina hit?” she asked.

“We all were, Mike, B’Elanna and I,” Chakotay replied. “All three of us.”

That was all he said – he gave no details. But he got a look on his face that Kathryn immediately recognized. It was the thousand-yard stare that she had begun seeing on the faces of her friends and neighbors in Voyager, a look that spoke of suffering and shock and fatigue. It was the face of a person who had seen so much that shouldn’t be seen.

A thought occurred to Kathryn. Maybe when Chakotay suggested she not enter Eula’s house, and when he failed to tell her his suspicions about her death, he was trying to keep that look of pain off of her face.

How could he know that she was quite accustomed to that pain, to that stare?

Kathryn set aside those thoughts and looked at her companion once again. He was still staring into the darkness, at memories only he could see.

“I am sure B’Elanna has those lentils warmed up by now,” she said.

Chakotay turned to her quickly, the past leaving his eyes. He smiled and said, “I guess you are hungry?”

“Famished,” Kathryn replied. She turned to resume their walk to the fire pit.

“Oh,” Chakotay said, “Kathryn, I meant to ask you, would you mind if B’Elanna stays inside the Fire House? I know Mike has been staying there, but he and I need to catch up on some things, and I thought he could share the tent with me. And B’Elanna could stay inside?”

Kathryn chuckled and said, “She’s already set up her sleeping bag in the room the guys assigned to me.”

“Is that all right with you?” Chakotay asked worriedly. “I promise, it’s not because she’s a girl … uh, woman. Mike and I really do need to talk about a few things.”

“Wow, I really have you worried about that ‘chauvinist’ thing, don’t I, Beyonce?” Kathryn said with a smirk as she continued walking.

“I thought we were calling me ‘Prince’?” Chakotay replied as he followed her.

\------------

After dinner was done, B’Elanna handed paper cups to the people still sitting around the fire pit. Kathryn took the bottle of Smirnoff her new roommate had taken from Chakotay’s truck and poured vodka into everyone’s cups.

“That bottle’s not going to last,” Tom Paris said. “Good thing I liberated this from my dad’s place.” And he held up a bottle of Grey Goose.

Kathryn gave him a look and said, “No one needs to get sloppy tonight. There’s still a lot of work to do, and it’s going to be close to 100-degrees tomorrow. We’ll drink enough to honor Eula then call it a night.”

Tom gave her a look and muttered, “Eula would not approve of our restraint.”

Kathryn just raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Well, since you have so much to say, why don’t you tell the first Eula story and lead us in our first toast?”

“Ooo, tell about the time she caught you skinny-dipping in the river near her house and she took your clothes,” Harry said eagerly.

“Didn’t I hear that Eula beat both of you, Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim, at a game of strip poker at the Dock Bar once?” Dr. Zimmerman asked.

Chakotay turned to Kathryn, who was sitting next to him, and asked, “Just exactly how many of these Miss Eula stories should I expect to involve nudity?”

“More than you might be comfortable with,” Kathryn responded.

Tom, who was beet red, held up his hand to quiet the group assembled around the fire.

“No,” he said, “I have a different Eula story to tell. One time, many years ago, when Eula still kept a boat at Small Harbor, she found me on her boat. I … uh, well … she caught me trying to steal her boat.”

The group quieted. Most of the Voyagers knew Tom’s youth had been troubled, but he rarely talked about it.

“You see,” he continued, “I’d had a big fight with my dad. And all I wanted to do was get out of Voyager. I was twelve years-old, and all I wanted to was to get on a boat and sail away into to Gulf. To get out past the barrier islands, past where the shrimping fleet and the deep-sea fishing rentals go, and keep sailing on. I had no idea where I would end up, I just wanted to go.”

Tom smiled sheepishly and said, “Of course, Eula caught me. First she yelled at me, then she swatted my behind. Then she sat me down and asked me what I was doing. She asked me what I was trying to run away from. And I told her – I told her how I was afraid my dad had planned my life out for me, and it wasn’t a plan I liked. That the only time I felt like myself was on the water. And that I was afraid that my only choices were going to be living on the land or dying in the sea – and I wasn’t sure which one I wanted more.”

Tom’s eyes began to shine.

“Eula took my hand and told me that I had one job, to take what I loved best about the land and what I love best about the sea and create a third option for myself. I told her I didn’t think my dad would let me do that. She told me – very rightly – that I was twelve years old and that my father had one job, to keep me safe. And that if I let dad do his job for a few more years, then I could do mine.”

Tom lifted his paper cup to the heavens.

“Eula, you were the first person who ever told me it was okay to want to be someone other than the person my family expected me to be. And you challenged me to be my own person – and a good person – every time I saw you in the years after that day. You changed my life, lady, and I will be forever grateful.”

Tom looked around at the people sitting by the fire and said, “To Eula!”

“To Eula!” they all echoed.


	13. Chapter 13

“How is it possible that we’ve been here for only sixteen hours, it feels like days,” Chakotay remarked as he unzipped his sleeping bag.

Mike chuckled and said, “Well, it’s been a pretty busy sixteen hours.” He had dragged his sleeping mat from the Fire House kitchen to his friend’s tent as soon as he confirmed B’Elanna had taken her things inside.

“I expected busy,” Chakotay replied as he settled in the bag and dimmed the camp light sitting on the ground between Mike and himself. “I didn’t expect a murder investigation.”

Mike turned on his side and propped his head up with his hand.

“You going to be OK, Chakotay? When I asked you and B’Elanna to come, I never imagined you would have to … well, you know.”

“Deal with corpses? Yeah, well, after a storm like this, it was always a possibility,” Chakotay said with a sigh. Then he added, “Not like it was a new experience for me.”

Mike pursed his lips as he looked at his friend. He was grateful that Chakotay and B’Elanna were there to help, but he never, not in a million years, would have asked them if he’d had any idea that Hurricane Rick’s aftermath might dredge up Chakotay’s terrible memories like this. He tried to think of something encouraging to say.

“I know it meant a lot to Kathryn to have you … handle … the situation at Eula’s house,” Mike finally said.

At that, Chakotay sat up.

“What’s the story there?” he asked.

“With Kathryn?” Mike asked in return. Chakotay nodded.

Mike took a breath and said, “Well, she’s new to Voyager – only been here six or eight months. She came down here for a job, and, uh, it didn’t really turn out like she expected. She had gotten to know some of us in town – me, Eula, the Paris family, Tuvok, and so on – and when … her job ended, she was hired to take over as town administrator. And she’s been here ever since.”

Chakotay eyed his friend.

“That’s not much of a story,” he said with a look. “What was the job she came for? Oh, and what was all that you said earlier today about that Card-whatever family, and that they hate her? Why do they hate her?”

Mike sighed and laid back on his pillow.

“She actually was hired by the Cardona family, initially. They had decided to develop their land along the Dorvan River. They wanted to build a casino and luxury condos. They were going to dredge the river to allow for Gulf-going watercraft to dock at their properties. Kathryn is a civil engineer with significant experience in development, they hired her to manage the project.”

“What happened?” Chakotay asked.

Mike smiled and said, “In short, Eula Crossett happened. First of all, she refused to sell her section of land to the Cardona’s, and they needed hers to make the development work. More importantly, she took the time to explain to Kathryn the potential long-term ecological impacts of developing the land along the river. And she shared her suspicion that the Cardona’s were attempting to negotiate the purchase of the two small barrier islands just offshore.”

“Why did they want those islands?”

“They were going to dredge them up to increase the wave action to our beaches.”

Chakotay sat straight up.

“What?!” he said in surprise. “Is that even legal? That would destroy the marsh ecosystem at the mouth of the river!”

Mike turned over and replied, “That was their plan. They wanted to turn Voyager’s beaches into something like you find in Destin or Pensacola. The islands keep the wave action from the Gulf off our beaches, which make them less attractive to tourists. Their hope was to build up the river front, buy out all the landowners along our beaches, then dig up the islands to increase the wave action.”

Chakotay was flabbergasted.

“The *only* reason any parts of Voyager are still standing is because those barrier islands blocked the worst of the storm surge. Without those islands, this town wouldn’t survive the next Hurricane Rick.”

“Yeah, I knew all of that would flip your lid,” Mike replied. “I actually started to call you when all of it came out, figured you might be able to provide a scientific analysis of the risks. But Kathryn Janeway had already done all that research. At the public meeting where she was supposed to present the Cardie development plan, she went rogue on them and gave a 45-mminute presentation, along with Miss Eula, about the potential environmental impact of the plan. By the time they were done, the planning commission was ready to reject the entire thing. The family head, E. Bran Cardona fired Kathryn on the spot, and Voyager’s mayor, Owen Paris, offered her a job.”

“So they hate her,” Chakotay mused as he lay back down.

“They hate her and Eula,” Mike affirmed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Tuvok wasn’t planning on talking to Bran’s sons, Duke and Dred, about their whereabouts when the storm was approaching.”

“Do you think Kathryn is in danger?” Chakotay asked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mike replied forcefully.

Chakotay turned to look towards his friend once more.

“You like her,” he said simply.

“I do,” Mike replied. Then he added, “But not like that. We went out once. Her heart wasn’t in it, neither was mine.”

Chakotay smiled – he was pretty sure where Mike’s heart was. It was something they would talk about soon, but not tonight. He turned the camp light all the way down until the tent was totally dark. For the next few minutes, the only sound was that of cicadas, their songs rising and falling over and over in the night air.

“Chakotay?”

“Huh?”

“Missed you, brother.”

“Missed you, Mike.”


	14. Chapter 14

“You think the puppy will sleep all night?” B’Elanna asked Kathryn as they readied for sleep in the storage closet they were sharing in the Fire House.

“I think so,” Kathryn said as she gently stroked Molly’s silky fur. “I think today had worn her out. Plus, it’s the first day she’s had a good meal in several days.”

“Probably the first day she’s felt safe in a while, too, poor thing,” B’Elanna added as she reached over to scratch Molly’s snout. Molly roused from her slumber for just a moment, long enough to lick B’Elanna’s hand, then fell back asleep.

“I think when all of this is over, I might have a new roommate,” Kathryn said with a wry smile.

B’Elanna smiled at her new friend.

“I am sorry I never had the chance to meet Miss Eula, but based on what I’ve heard about her, and what I’ve learned about you, I think she would be pleased that the two of you ended up together,” she said softly.

Kathryn chuckled a little then sighed.

“I appreciate all that you and Chakotay have done today,” she said, “but now that Voyager is not only dealing with storm recovery but also a murderer on the loose, I wouldn’t blame you if you high-tailed it out of town first thing tomorrow.”

B’Elanna shook her head as she slid into her sleeping bag.

“No, we’re good,” she replied. “No offense, but we have both been through worse.”

“Katrina?” Kathryn asked curiously.

B’Elanna nodded slowly, not meeting Kathryn’s eyes for a moment. When she settled in her bag, she turned on her side to look at the other woman.

“Katrina was … it was overwhelming in a way I can’t describe,” she said. “A lot of what you are dealing with here in Voyager, we dealt with in Louisiana. Chakotay and I were part of teams that helped with recovery south of New Orleans, like in St. Bernard and Plaquemines parishes. But we also were in the city in the days immediately after the storm hit. It was rough. It wasn’t the Wild West show that the media liked to make it seem, but there were … dangerous things happening.”

“How old were you then?” Kathryn asked.

“I was 16,” B’Elanna answered. “I had graduated high school early and had taken a couple of summer classes from Chakotay at Tulane. That’s how I met him, and, later, he got me involved in the volunteer efforts.”

“Chakotay is a professor?” Kathryn asked with interest. “What does he teach?”

“He was a professor of ecology,” B’Elanna answered.

“Was? As in ‘past-tense’?”

B’Elanna laid lack on her pillow and looked at the ceiling. She didn’t speak for a moment.

“Tulane had to close for the Fall Semester that year,” she finally said, “so he couldn’t teach. When they opened back up, he didn’t return.”

Kathryn was still sitting up, and she took a sip from her bottle of water. As she twisted the cap back on, she regarded the younger woman. Her face looked somber, almost sad. Something about the experience she and Chakotay had in Katrina was affecting her. Kathryn realized there was more to their story, but she chose not to burden her new friend any more that night by asking about it.

So she went in a different direction.

“Are you an ecologist?” Kathryn asked.

B’Elanna laughed, “No way. I am an engineer.”

Kathryn was delighted by that response.

“Really? I am too. Civil, what about you?” she replied.

“Mechanical,” B’Elanna said with a smile. “I actually started at Tulane in their Chemical Engineering program but transferred to Louisiana State after the storm.”

“Oh, LSU has a really good engineering program,” Kathryn said.

“And an excellent football team,” B’Elanna said proudly, sitting up to show off the t-shirt she was sleeping in – it was purple and gold and read _LSU Tigers – 2019 NCAA Football Champions_.

“Where did you study?” she asked Kathryn as she lay back down.

“Notre Dame,” Kathryn replied with a grin. “The Fighting Irish will reclaim that football crown soon enough!”

The women chuckled – college football trash talk was something both enjoyed.

“Wait a second,” Kathryn asked. “If you were in chemical engineering, why were you in ecology classes?”

“Elective credit?” B’Elanna replied weakly. Then she rolled her eyes and said, “I took them because I had a tiny, little crush on Chakotay. He was one of the professors I met when I toured Tulane and I thought he was just ….”

She paused as if looking for the right word.

Then she said, “Dreamy” at the same time Kathryn supplied the word, “Hot.”

The women looked at each other and started laughing again.

“Okay, yes, he’s hot,” B’Elanna said. “But I guess I stopped seeing him that way a long time ago. Now he’s like my brother – my hot big brother who all my friends want me to set them up with.”

“I’m guessing that’s not been entirely successful,” Kathryn said with a smile. “On the way to Eula’s, Chakotay turned on your music, and ‘Love Stinks’ was playing so loudly it almost knocked me out of the truck. He said the two of you had been singing it because you both just broke up with people.”

B’Elanna made a face and said, “Yeah. I dated this guy, Max, for about nine or ten months. He was arrogant and good looking, and I was looking for the heart-of-gold that was buried beneath all that attitude.”

“Never found it, I guess,” Kathryn said wryly.

“Can’t find what doesn’t exist,” B’Elanna replied. “That relationship is beyond over.”

Kathryn turned off the small LED lamp sitting on the shelf next to her and settled into her sleeping bag.

After a moment, B’Elanna spoke.

“Chakotay’s relationship is also beyond over. Just an FYI.”

“Okay,” was all Kathryn said in response. But she grinned into the darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

The next several days passed in a blur of hard labor, sweat, and exhaustion for everyone calling the Fire House “home.” Each morning, Voyager’s workers and volunteers would rise with sun, gather at the fire pit for whatever someone had managed to scrounge together for breakfast, then make the day’s assignments.

The Fire House crew usually broke off into pairs. Each pair would then go to the Lot, where a small Red Cross table had been set up as a volunteer check-in. The teams had finally succeeded in clearing Highway 98 for the town’s inhabitants. 

Not that many Voyagers had returned home, sadly. But having the roads open meant that more needed resources could find their way in.

The Florida Division of Emergency Management had finally sent a small team to check on Voyager, along with a representative of FEMA. They spent a little time with Mayor Paris, but spent most of the day with Kathryn. She took them around town so they could document the damage. They updated her on plans for infrastructure repair.

The emergency officials had been gone for about half-an-hour when Chakotay returned to the Fire House. Kathryn was sitting at a picnic table, frowning at something on the papers in her hand.

Chakotay stood for a moment to look at her. They had only had time for a few conversations, but each one left him wanting to know her more. She was smart and funny. She was lovely. More than that, though, Chakotay saw a depth in her eyes that stirred something in him.

He kind of hated to admit it, but this woman was seriously getting to him. And he *thought* he might be getting to her - he had noticed more than one lingering look from her. Of course, the timing wasn’t convenient, but something was happening. And the anticipation was a little bit … thrilling.

“I see you’ve entered the paperwork phase of the recovery,” Chakotay said lightly as he took a seat across from Kathryn at the table.

Kathryn shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Where was Jim Cantore with a warning about all of this?” she asked sarcastically. “It looks like Voyager is about to get hit by ‘Hurricane Bureaucracy,’ and it’s a Cat 5.”

Chakotay smiled wryly.

“There is no human endeavor that cannot be made worse by the inclusion of red tape,” he said. “Has something in particular happened?”

Kathryn pointed to the papers she’d been reading and said, “The people from Emergency Management want me to commit to a debris removal contractor.”

Chakotay grimaced in sympathy. Debris removal is the nightmare of any hurricane recovery, he knew all to well. The piles of trash in Voyager were already reaching 15 feet in height, and they were on every street corner – tree limbs, the remains of houses and cars, toys, mattresses, road signs, dead animals, damp and rotting clothing, etc. There would be no way to start rebuilding until what had been ruined was removed. 

Kathryn continued.

“The state has 12 different companies in our area who were vetted prior to the storm, and with whom we can make a no-bid agreement with for thirty days. But every single one of them has already signed on with at least two larger towns. I can’t help but feel as though no matter which group Voyager goes with, we will be an afterthought. Our debris might not get touched for weeks.”

Chakotay got up and walked around the table to sit next to Kathryn and look at the documents she was reviewing.

“Looks like all of them have signed agreements with towns at least four or five times the size of Voyager,” he said, scanning the list of approved contractors and their current clients. “Do you have to go with one of these companies, can you try and find someone on your own?”

Kathryn shook her head and said, “Not if we want to qualify for any reimbursement from the state or the feds. If we go outside the pre-vetted list, we will be on the hook for the entire cost. And based on the estimates I am seeing for how much debris we have, and how much it will cost to remove, one month of non-approved contract services will eat up half the town’s annual budget.”

Chakotay whistled.

“When do you have to make a move on this?” he asked.

“The Division of Emergency Management expects me to tell them our choice by tomorrow morning,” Kathryn replied tiredly.

Both sat quietly for a moment. Then Chakotay clapped his hands together and said, “Well, the first thing you can do is eliminate some of the choices – the ones you know won’t work out.”

Kathryn smiled and replied, “Yeah, I guess that’s a start.”

So they worked their way through the list, scratching through the names of contractors that appeared to already be stretched too thin with multiple communities using them, or ones that indicated they would not handle any debris removal near tidelands or wetlands.

“That leaves you three companies, which one do you feel good about?” Chakotay asked.

Kathryn was silent, though – she was looking at a map of the Panhandle. But Chakotay could see her mind was working.

Finally, she said, “Look at this. Enterprise Contracting already has agreements with the county to remove debris from the unincorporated areas northwest of here, and with a couple of towns just to our east. The only road that can handle heavy loads *and* takes them from that part of the county to our east is Route 42. But the guy from the state said they’ve had to shut down the part of 42 that is close to the river, the storm surge under-washed the road and the pavement is cracking. The detour the contractors will have to take will take them 30 miles out of their way, that’ll cost them a fortune in gas.”

Chakotay leaned over to look at the map.

“Route 42 extension goes from north of Voyager, though the town, straight to Highway 98,” he said.

“And *you* finished clearing 98 yesterday,” Kathryn said with a smile. “If I asked you very nicely, do you think you could put together some volunteers to clear 42 extension?”

“What is your plan?” Chakotay asked.

“I could call the Enterprise project manager and make a deal with him,” Kathryn replied. “I’ll tell him we will clear 42 extension for them *if* they will promise to spend a proportionately-appropriate amount of time on Voyager’s debris. Get our stuff cleared out at the same pace as their other clients.”

Chakotay’s eyebrows went up.

“Oh, so you give them a chance to decrease their expenses if they will commit to devoting time to Voyager,” he said. “That’s clever.”

Kathryn just grinned in response.

“I need to call this Enterprise contact,” she said, and started to get up, but Chakotay placed a hand on hers.

“Wait a second, Kathryn, I think you are forgetting something,” he said.

Kathryn turned to look at him.

Chakotay leaned towards her, until his lips were close to her ear.

“If you want to get that road cleared,” he whispered, “remember, you have to ask me – and you said you’d ask me … very … nicely.”

Then he leaned away from her, looking at her appraisingly.

Kathryn just stared at him.

Then he gave her an exaggerated wink and grinned.

Kathryn snorted in laughter, hit him over the head with the papers in her hand, and went inside the Fire House to make her call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. Real life happens.
> 
> Also, am trying to balance the J/C parts with actual hurricane recovery issues. There are a lot of things you never even think will be a major consideration post-hurricane, and I want to do justice to those things.


	16. Chapter 16

A few more days passed. Kathryn signed an agreement with Enterprise Contracting, and Chakotay, Mike, and several teams of volunteers got Route 42 Extension cleared sufficiently for the debris removal trucks.

The same day the debris removal began, power was restored to the substation that fed most of Voyager. Unfortunately, only those locations that had underground power lines could benefit. Since most of the town relied on above-ground lines, most of it would have to wait on the teams of linemen currently working west of them to finish in the larger towns and head their way before they would have power again.

Kathryn had just groaned at the news and laid her head on the Fire House picnic table. B’Elanna, eating lunch nearby, had smiled sympathetically and said, “It was close to three months before my mom got power back at her place in New Orleans.”

“All I want is to take a hot shower, is that too much to ask?” Kathryn had replied plaintively, raising her head slightly. Then she sat up and said, “No, I want a hot *bath*. A long, relaxing soak in a tub of almost-too-hot water scented with lavender and just a touch of vanilla.”

“Mmmmmm,” B’Elanna hummed her agreement. “With a glass – no, a bottle – of a nice pinot noir right there for the taking.”

“The lights low,” Kathryn added.

“Candles,” suggested B’Elanna.

“Some lovely music playing,” Kathryn said dreamily. “Not one of those relaxing New Age tracks, something with some soul in it, maybe some slow jazz.”

“Yeah,” B’Elanna agreed, also in dream mode. “And ….”

The two women sat quietly with their day-dreams for a moment, then glanced at each other. They had gotten to be pretty good friends in the last couple of weeks, and each knew what the other was going to say next.

“A man,” they said in unison. Then they both fell apart with laughter.

“Yes, the right companion makes it perfect,” Kathryn said when she caught her breath. “Tall, dark, and handsome fits the bill!”

B’Elanna smiled conspiratorially at her friend and said, “I don’t know, I could handle ‘tall, blonde, and handsome.’”

“I’m sure you could,” Kathryn replied with a grin and raised eyebrows. She and B’Elanna had discussed Tom Paris a few times, and she was well aware of the younger woman’s growing interest.

“The question is, could he handle you?”

B’Elanna chuckled and said, “I would love to find out!”

Then she leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Don’t look now, but ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ is walking this way.”

Kathryn looked over her shoulder and saw Chakotay coming towards them from the Lot. He was carrying Molly and was accompanied by Dr. Kes, the veterinarian.

“There’s my girl!” Kathryn said with affection. The puppy heard her voice and started squirming in Chakotay’s arms.

“I came across Molly trying her hardest to drag Dr. Kes into the woods to chase squirrels,” Chakotay said as he let the dog down. Molly ran up to Kathryn and pawed at her legs.

Chakotay smiled at the sight of Kathryn picking the dog up and cuddling her in her lap.

“Molly let me pick her up, I thought she was glad to see me,” he said with a tug at his ear. “I guess she just figured I would bring her to you.”

“I am afraid Molly is a little put out with me,” Dr. Kes said with a slight grimace.

Kathryn looked up at that and asked, “Is she all right? I was so concerned that she stopped eating.”

The vet smiled and replied, “She’s fine, now. She had a bad tooth, I had to pull it. It looks like she broke it on something, and it was getting infected. That’s why she stopped eating, it was hurting.”

“Oh, sweet girl, I’m sorry!” Kathryn said, holding the puppy closer.

“She’ll be fine, now,” Dr. Kes assured her. “It was just beginning to get infected, there was no abscess. Pulled the tooth and gave her a shot of antibiotics. I brought you some of the softer puppy kibble, she should eat this for a week or so, just until her gums heal. Keep an eye on the spot for any swelling or bleeding.”

Kathryn was looking at Molly’s mouth and the empty spot where one of her baby teeth used to be.

“I wonder how she broke it,” she mused.

“Probably biting something she wasn’t supposed to,” Dr. Kes replied with a shrug. Then she turned to Chakotay and said, “Thank you, Mr. Chakotay, for helping me reign Molly in, I think she was ready to break her leash to go after those squirrels.”

Before Chakotay could respond, Kathryn said, “It’s just Chakotay. No ‘Mr.,’ just the one word.”

“Oh,” Dr. Kes said, “like ‘Beyonce?’”

Chakotay made a face and replied, with a little mock defensiveness, “Or ‘MacGyver.’”

At that, B’Elanna snorted.

“You know what you would get if you gave Chakotay a piece of string, an aluminum can, and some chewing gum?” she asked.

“What?” Kathryn asked with a smile and a side glance at a grimacing Chakotay.

“A lecture about littering,” B’Elanna responded, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hat tip to DieAstra for "MacGyver."
> 
> Also, for the purposes of this story, there is no COVID. Sorry. And the real 2020 Gulf hurricane season won't be reflected with complete accuracy. It's FF, not the History Channel.


	17. Chapter 17

Kathryn, B’Elanna, and Chakotay were still talking when Chief Tuvok walked up. He was accompanied by Tom Paris and Harry Kim.

“I am sorry to bother you, Ms. Janeway,” the Chief began, “but I was wondering if I could ask for your assistance.”

Kathryn stood and said, “Of course, Chief, what can I do?”

“We have gotten a report from the Coast Guard that some pleasure craft have grounded on the Bases,” Tuvok replied. “We need to get them identified so we can contact the owners, whoever they are. I have to meet with the county coroner about Miss Crossett’s case, so I can’t go. And my staff are all out on different assignments.”

Kathryn nodded and eyed the men with the Chief.

“Tom, I assume your dad will let us use your family boat?”

Tom nodded and replied, “Sure, but I will pilot. And I want to bring Harry to assist with visual navigation.”

Kathryn looked like she wanted to respond, but Tom continued talking.

“There’s a lot of debris in the water now, Kathryn, and many of the navigation markers are down. Under other circumstances, it would be fine for you to ‘captain’ a boat from shore to the Bases. But I know the channels out there better than anyone.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.” But she knew he was correct.

“What are ‘the Bases’?” B’Elanna asked. At the same time, Chakotay asked, “Kathryn drives boats?”

No one was sure whose question to answer, so Harry answered both.

“The ‘Bases’ are the barrier islands about eight miles offshore. They used to be one big island but got split in two during a storm sometime in the late 19th century. We call them Big Base and Little Base.”

He pointed to Kathryn and added, “She knows how to sail on lakes. That’s different from piloting on the open Gulf.”

Everyone looked at him for a moment.

“What,” Harry said with a grin. “No one was answering, and I want to get going.”

Before anyone could respond, an extremely unpleasant voice broke in.

“Well, well, I thought that whole ‘Rainbow Coalition’ nonsense died out years ago, but look here, it’s apparently alive in Voyager.”

Everyone in the group turned towards the voice. Two tall men stood nearby, smiling nastily at Kathryn, Tuvok, and the others.

Kathryn’s face turned cold at the sight of them. Tuvok just nodded grimly at each one, saying, “Duke Cardona. Dred Cardona. May I be of any assistance to you?”

The one Tuvok had called “Duke” laughed and replied, “Sure, Chief. Or, should I call *him* that?”

He pointed at Chakotay and asked, “Are you our new Chief, Kemosabe?” Then he turned to his brother and both chuckled.

Chakotay stared at the men evenly. These were the infamous Cardonas. The ones who had apparently threatened Kathryn. Who might have hurt, or even killed, Miss Eula.

 _I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they are into racist humor_ , Chakotay thought to himself.

The other one, the one Tuvok called “Dred,” smiled at B’Elanna and said, “I’d like to know more about the little Senorita.”

“She’s far too smart and accomplished for you,” Tom retorted.

Dred took a step towards B’Elanna and said, “That true, mamacita? Bet my boat is bigger than blondie’s.”

B’Elanna set her jaw and stepped towards Dred. She crossed her arms, looked at him coldly and said, “Not anywhere big enough, I’m sure.”

Dred opened his mouth to respond, but Kathryn cut him off.

“Look, as fascinating as it is to allow you two to advertise your ignorance, we actually are in the middle of something. So, if you will excuse us ….”

Duke smiled darkly and replied, “Of course. I know your little job with the city keeps you busy dealing with … trash.” And he darted his eyes around the group.

“But keep in mind, Janeway,” he continued, “my family has unfinished business with you. And we don’t leave things unfinished.”

With that, the Cardona men walked away.

No one said anything as they walked towards the hastily repaired dock where the Paris cabin cruiser _, I’m Not Alice_ , was tied up. They were all thinking about the brief encounter with the Cardona’s, all asking themselves variations of the same question, ”Was that a threat?”

And of them thought it was.

As they boarded the boat, Chakotay held out his hand to help Kathryn aboard.

“You going to make Tom let you pilot some?” he asked.

Kathryn smiled saucily in response.

Chakotay smiled and said, “Guess I’m going to have to call you ‘Captain.’”

“And I’ll call you ‘Tennille,’” she replied.


	18. Chapter 18

Kathryn and B’Elanna were sitting at the aft deck the boat as it cruised toward Big Base. The mid-afternoon sun was still bright, but the spray of the Gulf kept them somewhat cooled.

Both women were kept glancing towards the pilothouse, where Tom was steering the boat with Chakotay next to him asking questions. Harry was still at the bow watching for debris, but now, a couple of miles from shore, they had gotten past most of the floating and sunken post-hurricane trash that could impede their journey.

"You should ask him out," Kathryn suddenly said. She spoke loudly to be heard over the noise of the engine, and B’Elanna looked at the pilothouse in alarm. But the men hadn't heard.

Relaxing, she asked Kathryn, "You think so? I'm not sure I'm his type."

Kathryn's brow furrowed and she asked, "What do you think his type is?"

B’Elanna shrugged and said, "I don't know. Someone cute and adoring, a little more ... cheerleader."

Kathryn chuckled and said, "You are selling him short. For all his 'frat boy' looks, he's actually pretty enlightened. I've known the Paris family a long time and, trust me, Tom loves women who challenge him. Maybe it's because he has three very smart, very independent sisters. I've never known him to fall for the 'cheerleader' types you must be thinking of."

B’Elanna chewed on that for a moment then, looking back toward the pilothouse, grinned and said, "Maybe." Then she turned to Kathryn and threw the suggestion back at her.

"You should ask Chakotay out."

Kathryn's eyes widened and she exhaled loudly.

"I don't think so," she replied, shaking her head. "That man can definitely do better than me."

B’Elanna was taken aback by this statement.

"Huh? What does that mean?" she asked incredulously.

Kathryn waved a hand in dismissal and said, "He's tall, he's hot, he's smart, he's kind. I am sure he's got every woman in New Orleans lined up to ask him out. Why would he be interested in someone like me?"

"Now who is selling someone short?" B’Elanna demanded. "You are amazing, not to mention beautiful, you have to know that."

Kathryn snorted.

"Yeah, with my hair that hasn't been washed in three days, my body covered in cuts and bruises and bug bites. Have either of you even seen me in anything other than torn, sweaty, dirty t-shirts? Hell, I ran out of deodorant two days after Rick hit -- since you've been here, has there been a day that I *haven't* smelled like the Gulf of Mexico?"

She chuckled and said, "I am sure Chakotay has better to choose from."

B’Elanna shook her head and said, "Surely you will give Chakotay the same consideration you want me to give T. He is not that shallow.”

She turned her body to face Kathryn more directly and continued.

“Yeah, if we were to compare you right this second to the woman all dressed for a Mardis Gras ball, your presentation might seem lacking. But I have no doubt, you clean up nicely. And during the time we've been here. he's gotten to know the kind of woman you are. That's hugely important to him. You are smart, you are kind. You are about the most dedicated, hard-working government official I've ever met. You make him laugh -- I know it, I've seen it. You have earned the respect of Mike, his best friend. All of that is far more important to a man like Chakotay than how you might look in formalwear."

Then B’Elanna leaned towards Kathryn and lowered her voice a fraction.

"But in case you really are concerned about it, I happen to know that several Voyager men have been almost breathless in describing your beauty to him -- and not just how you look when you've cleaned up. In fact, yesterday I walked into a polite disagreement between Mike and Chakotay about when you looked the 'hottest.' Mike said it was when you were chewing out that city worker who nearly spilled that can of propane hear the fire pit. Chakotay thinks it’s when you take your first sip of coffee."

Kathryn looked at B’Elanna doubtfully.

“Chakotay called me ‘hot’?” she demurred. “That doesn’t sound like something he would say.”

“Well,” B’Elanna replied, “I think it was Mike who initially used the word ‘hot.’ But you’re right, Chakotay used different words to describe you. I think he said that when first smell your morning coffee, you look ‘alluring.’ And once you take that first sip, you become ‘breathtaking.’”

B’Elanna smiled at the stunned look on Kathryn’s face.

“And then when Mike once again argued you were hot when you were arguing, Chakotay just replied, ‘Damn hot.”

Kathryn began to blush and she fidgeted in her seat a bit.

Finally, she looked back at B’Elanna and smiled.

“I don’t hate that at all.”


	19. Chapter 19

Chakotay was quizzing Tom about navigating the stretch of the Gulf between Voyager and the Base Islands. He was curious about several odd turns that Tom had made about half a mile from shore.

“There are channels dug by the Army Corps of Engineers off the coasts of Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana,” Tom said as he kept his eyes on the water. “Those channels are used regularly for shipping, the shrimping fleets, pleasure boating, etc. We don’t have a significant port, nor are our barrier islands as large as those west of here. So our channels aren’t commercially maintained and they can change with the shifting sands on the bottom.”

“Like after a storm,” Chakotay replied.

“Exactly,” Tom nodded. “And since it looks like some of our buoys have come loose because of Rick, am trying to stay as close as possible to the middle of the channels I know, even if it means taking some odd turns.”

Chakotay looked at the bow and asked, “Are you concerned there will be much debris this far out?”

Tom sighed and said, “You never know. It’s not likely – most anything dangerous that got swept out when the surge retreated has probably sunk. But anything could be out there. A few years ago, some friends of mine hit a dinghy that had been swept five miles out into the Gulf after a minor storm. It was barely visible and they didn’t see it until they were right up on it. Everyone was OK, but it scared them pretty bad – and did a hell of a lot of damage to their boat.”

Chakotay shook his head and said, “I still can’t believe how many sunken boats we saw.”

“Most of them were pleasure craft, probably very well-insured,” Tom replied. “I am just glad the Voyager shrimpers and fishermen kept their boats well-moored.”

Chakotay started to ask when fishing might start up again for the Voyagers, but he noticed Tom looking at chrome set at the base of the windshield and grinning.

“What?” he asked.

Tom nodded to the place he was looking and said, “That’s not an actual rear-view mirror – they aren’t required – but I kind of use it like that. And I can see Kathryn and B’Elanna talking. And they keep looking at the pilothouse.”

Chakotay resisted the urge to turn around.

“So?” he asked nonchalantly.

Tom looked sideways at Chakotay.

“She likes you, you know,” he said.

Chakotay shifted nervously and tugged at his ear.

“You mean Kathryn? Yes, I like her also, she is a very nice person,” he responded weakly.

Tom rolled his eyes and called, “Harry! Get in here!”

Harry worked his from the bow to the pilothouse and said, “Yeah, Tom? What do you need?”

Tom tilted his head towards Chakotay and said, “Mr. New Orleans thinks our Kathryn is a ‘nice person.’”

Now Harry rolled his eyes. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“I don’t think ‘nice person’ is the language Mike told me you used in describing her,” he said with a knowing grin.

 _Dammit, Mike_ , Chakotay thought. Then he held his hands up as if in surrender and admitted, “I might have … expressed some … admiration for her, yes.”

Tom and Harry both chuckled.

“Look, man, we all have eyes,” Tom said. “You like her, she likes you. You should ask her out.”

“Out to where, the clump of trees to the east of the Fire House instead of the ones to the west, where we all gather for meals?” Chakotay replied half seriously.

“Go for a walk on the cleared part of the beach, borrow a bass boat and go up river a bit. Have a picnic on top of that trailer unit FEMA left for us. Use your imagination!” Tom replied with great energy.

“Oh, you are one to talk,” Harry retorted before Chakotay could respond. “I haven’t seen you making any plans with B’Elanna.”

Tom looked at Chakotay nervously. Chakotay did his best to look stern, then grinned.

“She likes you too, Tom,” he replied. “And don’t, for one minute, think I haven’t checked you out. I saw the two of you making eyes at each other and immediately went to Mike for information.”

“What did Mike say,” Tom asked warily.

Chakotay clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder and said, “That you can be goofy and, very occasionally, a little reckless. But that you are a good man who would never try to control or intimidate a woman. That you are one of the few men Mike knew who would be interested in B’Elanna as much for her mind as her looks.”

Tom looked a little surprised, then smiled.

“B’Elanna’s amazing to talk to,” he said. “I mean, she’s a knock-out, but I think I could talk to her for the rest of my life and be happy.”

“Then ask her out,” Chakotay and Harry both replied.

Tom shook his head and answered, “Nope, not unless I know that you …” and he pointed at Chakotay, “… are going to treat Kathryn Janeway to a romantic evening. You like her, she likes you, and heaven knows, she deserves a fun night.”

Chakotay risked taking a look behind him at Kathryn and B’Elanna. The wind had caught Kathryn’s hair, and she was laughing at something B’Elanna had said. There was nothing particularly magical about the sight, but, still, Chakotay felt his heartbeat quicken.

“Okay.”


	20. Chapter 20

Tom slowed _I’m Not Alice_ as they approached Big Base. The dock on the shore side of the island looked intact.

“What are you thinking, Tom?” Kathryn asked. She and B’Elanna had joined the others in the pilothouse.

“The Coast Guard said the boats were on the Gulf side of the islands. I am thinking I should drop you and Chakotay off here on Big Base, and y’all can walk to the other side. Then B’Elanna, Harry and I can zip over to the Gulf side of Little Base and check out the boat washed up over there, though I doubt we will go ashore. Then we will come back here, tie off, and find the two of you. We can make decisions then, once we know what we are dealing with.”

Tom announced his plan nonchalantly, but both Kathryn and Chakotay felt a surge of nervous energy at the thought of being left alone for a while on the island.

“Sounds good,” Kathryn replied casually. Chakotay just nodded.

Tom steered the boat to the dock, and Chakotay and Kathryn climbed off. As Tom began maneuvering away from the dock, B’Elanna yelled, “Have fun! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

The dock continued to the island and turned into a rickety walkway. Kathryn and Chakotay traversed the half-mile to the other side of the island quickly, despite the amount of sand that had been washed onto the old boards.

When they reached the Gulf side of the island, they quickly spotted the stranded boat the Coast Guard had seen. It was a cabin cruiser, like the Paris boat, but much larger. It was on the beach, leaning against a sand dune. 

Kathryn walked around to the back.

“It’s called _The Sacajawea_ , it’s out of Gulf Shores, Alabama,” she called.

Chakotay was inspecting the craft and joined her.

“It looks to be intact. I didn’t see any sign of anyone on board, though,” he said.

“I doubt anyone was,” Kathryn replied. “It probably came loose from wherever it was tied up during Rick and floated out into the Gulf. Those thunderstorms we had the other night might have pushed it here.”

Chakotay looked around and then shrugged his shoulders.

“You want to look inside?” he asked.

“Might as well,” Kathryn replied. They walked to the sand dune that held the boat mostly upright and climbed it. The port side of the bow was close enough from there that they could easily get onboard.

“Tread carefully,” Kathryn said, “we don’t want to shift the weight of the craft so much that it tips over.”

Chakotay nodded and replied, “Should we see if the radio is working? It doesn’t look like there’s much damage inside, other than a few things falling over. If no saltwater got into the batteries, the radio might still have power.”

Kathryn nodded and walked carefully to the pilothouse. She flipped a switch on the VHF radio, and it crackled to life.

Grinning, she grabbed the microphone and called, “ _I’m Not Alice_ , _I’m Not Alice_ , this is the craft _The_ _Sacagawea_ calling from Big Base island, do you read?”

After a few seconds, the radio crackled to life.

“Kathryn, is that you?” Tom asked.

“Yes, _I’m Not Alice_ , this is Kathryn Janeway on Big Base. Have you reached Little Base?”

Tom replied, “Just pulling up. What craft did you say you were calling from?”

“It’s a cruiser called _The Sacajawea_. It’s out of Gulf Shores. It appears to be intact, no one’s on board. What have you found?”

“The boat over here looks like an old shrimp boat. Not one from Voyager, though. We haven’t gotten close enough to see the name, yet, though, and ….”

Tom stopped talking, and Kathryn and Chakotay heard Harry and B’Elanna talking in the background. They sounded agitated.

“Hold on, Kathryn,” Tom said. He set down the microphone but left it open so they could hear what he was saying.

“There’s someone onshore, and there’s another boat here, it’s moored at the east end. A red speedboat.”

“Red speedboat,” Kathryn repeated. And a chill ran through her.

“What the … HEY!” they heard Tom yell. Then there were shouts, a loud crack, and a scream.

“Tom! Tom!” Kathryn yelled into the microphone. She looked to Chakotay, but he was frantically digging among the items on the floor. 

“Found them!” he said and he climbed up to the flybridge above the main cabin. Once there, he took the binoculars he’d found and looked to the East, towards Little Base.

“Tom, are you there?” Kathryn yelled into the microphone again, craning her head to see Chakotay.

“I can barely see them,” he said, “but it looks like they are under way, away from the island.”

The radio crackled again, and they heard B’Elanna.

“Kathryn, Chakotay, are you there?”

“Yes, B’Elanna, we’re here, what happened?” Kathryn replied frantically. Chakotay climbed down to join her.

“Someone was on the island when we got there, and when we tried to make contact, they pulled out a rifle and started shooting!” B’Elanna replied. “They hit Tom!”

“Tom was shot? Is he OK?” Kathryn asked.

“I’m all right,” Tom replied. But he sounded odd.

B’Elanna spoke again, saying “He got hit in the thigh. Looks like it went clean through, muscle only. But he’s bleeding pretty bad.”

“They need to get back to shore,” Chakotay said. Kathryn nodded.

“Take him back to Voyager now, come back for us later,” she said to B’Elanna.

“I think that’s what we’re doing,” B’Elanna replied. 

Then they heard Harry Kim.

“Kathryn, by the time we get him back to Voyager and to Dr. Zimmerman, the sun will have set. The channel marker lights haven't functioned since the storm, so I can’t risk coming to pick the two of you up until sunrise. Will you be OK?”

Kathryn and Chakotay looked at one another. They were going to have to spend the night on Big Base. Together. Just the two of them.

After a few seconds, Kathryn finally said, “We’ll be fine. Just get Tom to the Doctor. We’ll see you shortly after first light.”

B’Elanna got back on the radio and said, “We’re going to sign off – Harry needs to pilot the boat, and I need to tend to Tom, he’s getting lightheaded. Please be careful both of you, whoever shot Tom is probably still nearby. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

And the radio went silent.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously apologize for the delay. Real life + holidays + work stress + "OMG, can this pandemic be over, please?" = No Time for Writing.
> 
> Hoping to do much better in 2021.

The sharp angle at which the _The Sacajawea_ was leaning made it an unsuitable home for the night. They would need to spend the night on the sand.

“You think whoever shot at the others might come here next?” Chakotay inquired.

Kathryn shook her head.

“I doubt it,” she said with a sigh. “Tom said it was a red speedboat. The Cardona’s have a red speedboat. They had to know their craft was spotted, they probably high-tailed it back to their compound up-river.”

Chakotay looked doubtful. He still remembered the veiled threat Duke Cardona had leveled at Kathryn. 

“All the same,” he said, “why don’t we set up camp on the island side of the boat, so we aren’t as easy to spot from the water.”

Kathryn shrugged in response, saying, “If you’d like.” Then she looked back at _The Sacajawea_.

“You think that think will stay upright if we are both on it looking for supplies for the night?”

\------------

A half-hour later, Kathryn was on the sand fiddling with the boat’s radio. It was a hand-held unit with a battery pack, and it had separated from its housing pretty easily. Kathryn was scanning for any nearby traffic, not expecting to hear any but checking nonetheless.

She was sitting on a bench cushion covered with a couple of rain coats. While Kathryn had been liberating the radio, he had been scrounging for things they could use to make their overnight stay a little more comfortable. He’d found a few dry pillows, matts, towels, and inflatables, which he tossed onto the sand. As Kathryn had arranged them, Chakotay had gone to the galley to root for food and water.

“I really hope you aren’t a very picky eater.”

Kathryn turned at Chakotay’s comment. He was lowering himself from the side of The Sacajawea holding a filled-up beach bag.

She grinned and asked, “You mean that despite being set adrift by a Cat Five hurricane and grounding two or three weeks ago on a basically deserted island, this little pleasure craft is not bursting with gourmet goodies for you and I to enjoy? That qualifies as tragedy, doesn’t it?”

As Chakotay took a seat on a nearby cushion, Kathryn added, “I’ve been surviving on peanut butter sandwiches and MREs long enough that I think I can stomach just about anything.”

Chakotay raised an eyebrow at her then reached into the bag. He pulled out two identical bottles of wine. Kathryn took one and eyed it.

“Merlot,” she said with a disappointed sigh. “I can live with it. And to eat?”

Chakotay tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it. He chuckled, pulled a large box from the bag, and presented it to Kathryn.

“Frosted Flakes?” she asked in disbelief as she took the box.

“This was the only thing in the galley that wasn’t spoiled from age or water damaged,” he replied.

Kathryn checked the cereal box. It was a little crushed, but the bag inside was still airtight. The expiration date on the packaging said the contents were good for another ten months. She shook her head.

“I usually prefer white wine with my sugared breakfast cereals,” she said dryly.

“Who doesn’t?” Chakotay answered with false gravity. “That’s why I asked if you were a picky eater.”

He reached back into the bag and took out four coffee mugs, setting a couple in front of Kathryn. He saw the flash of hope in her eyes.

“Sorry, there’s no coffee. There are no unbroken bowls or wine glasses, either. These are for your Flakes and your merlot.”

Kathryn stared at the mugs, then at Chakotay. Then she started laughing. It really was too absurd.

\------------

An hour later, the sun had set. Chakotay, having found some matches on the boat, had started a small fire from driftwood Kathryn had gathered. It was mainly for the light – the night was warm and the breeze from the gulf negligible.

They had each eaten at least a mug-and-a-half of Frosted Flakes, and they had just opened the second bottle of wine.

“See, my Swiss Army Knife comes complete with a corkscrew, so you really need to call me ‘MacGyver.’ No more Madonna’s or Adele’s or anything,” Chakotay said in a flirtatious voice. 

He had a decent buzz going, just enough to loosen him up.

Kathryn was feeling the same way. 

“I *like* calling you those names,” she replied with a crooked grin. “I like how it flusters you.”

“I can’t imagine where these control needs of yours come from, Captain. And don’t you dare call me ‘Tennille.’”

Chakotay had started referring to her by the name he’d jokingly given her after hearing about her wish to pilot Tom’s boat.

Kathryn laughed and took another large swig of merlot.

“There’s lots you don’t know about me. Come to think of it, there’s lots I don’t know about you. We should fix that! Want to play ‘Twenty Questions’? But they have to be questions about each other?”

Deep inside, Chakotay cheered. He really wanted to get to know this woman better, and here was the chance. He smiled widely and said, “I would love to.”

At the same time, Kathryn’s heart beat a little faster as Chakotay’s dimples shone in the firelight.

“Okay, I want to ask the first question,” she said a little loudly, to cover the sound of her heart. “What does the word ‘Maquis’ on your van mean? I’ve been dying to know. B’Elanna told me you’ve been doing woodworking since you left your full-time academic career, and she made it sound like the name of your business is some big secret. So, is it? Is ‘Maquis’ a secret club, or something historical? It’s been driving me crazy.”

At that question, Chakotay took a deep breath. He leaned forward.

“I will tell you, Kathryn. But you cannot tell anyone. Even B’Elanna.”

Kathryn’s eyes got wide and she nodded.

“I won’t tell a soul,” she whispered.

Chakotay looked at the ground, then made a show of looking around and behind himself, as though checking for others who might be listening in. He then leaned closer to Kathryn, his breath tickling her ear and making her shudder.

“It’s called ‘Maquis’ because I let an old friend do the custom paint job on my van, and he was too hung over after a Saints’ game to realize he’d misspelled ‘Marquis’ when he transferred the design to the van to paint it.”

Chakotay straightened up and looked at Kathryn.

Kathryn stared at him for a moment, then was overcome with laughter. Chakotay joined her.

As they both tried to get hold of themselves, each had a similar thought – thank goodness for merlot.


	22. Chapter 22

They spent the next half-hour or so covering basic “get-to-know-you” questions – best subject in school, most memorable vacation, favorite movie, etc. Chakotay had surprised Kathryn with the news that his favorite food was white shrimp curry.

“Not just anywhere, though,” he qualified. “It has to be from Commander’s Palace in New Orleans.”

“For some reason, I thought you were a vegetarian,” Kathryn mused.

Chakotay tugged at his ear and smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah, not entirely. I guess I am technically a pescatarian – I don’t eat meat, but I do eat fish and other seafood. I mean, I’ve lived in South Louisiana since I was 15. I think they’ll kick me out if I stop eating shrimp and redfish and such.”

Kathryn nodded and replied, “It’s basically the same here. The quickest way to make an enemy in Voyager is to turn down someone’s fried oysters or gumbo, especially if you were on the fishing trip when the food was caught.”

“Interesting, my next question for you is right along those lines.”

Kathryn raised her eyebrows and said, “Have at it.”

He leaned forward, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

“Why were you so keen to pilot Tom’s boat? Are you a frustrated fisherman?”

“I sailed a lot as a kid,” Kathryn. “Of course, it was mostly lakes and rivers. My father was in the Navy, but settled his family a good, long way from any seashores. I was driving pontoons and ski-boats by the time I was 12, and I learned to sail at Lake George in New York. We always went there a few weeks in the summer, for family vacations and reunions and such.”

“What about the Great Lakes, ever sail there? That’s kind of like open water sailing.”

Kathryn’s face clouded a bit.

“Yes,” she said. Then she took a long drink of wine and sat quietly looking at the sand.

Chakotay looked at her carefully. There was pain in her eyes. He started to say something – an apology, a subject change, he didn’t know what – when she began speaking again.

“Yes,” she said, and then she took a deep breath. “Yes, I sailed on Great Lakes. Competitions on Lake Michigan and Lake Erie. Took a couple of trips to Lake Huron. Never made it to Lake Ontario, for some reason. Then there was Lake Superior.”

And then she went silent again.

“Kathryn, if there’s a story there, you don’t have to tell it.”

She smiled slightly and glanced at him.

“I said my father was in the Navy. He was an engineer and designer – he loved designing boats. The entire time I was studying engineering at Notre Dame, he would get me involved in whatever new boat design he was working on. I’d come home for weekends or holidays, and he’d pull out his drawings. And mom would tease both of us that we were spending too many hours on something that would never actually sail. And he had done that for years, he’d create a design, build a model, then move to a new project.”

Kathryn quieted for a moment, then sighed.

“He only actually built one boat. He had it done right about the time I finished my B.S. – he called it _The Goldenbird_ , which was his nickname for me when I was a girl. He was so excited, he couldn’t wait for us to take a trip. He was even willing to let me bring my fiancé, Justin, with us.”

She was quiet again, lost in her memories. Chakotay realized the rest of the story must be hard to tell. He leaned over to place his hand on hers – it was the most comfort he felt he could offer.

Kathryn swallowed and looked at Chakotay. She saw the empathy in his eyes, and she nodded in acknowledgement. 

Then she said softly, “I never knew why he wanted to try the boat out on Superior.”

The memory of a song suddenly popped into Chakotay’s mind. He couldn’t remember all the lyrics, but he recalled Gordon Lightfoot’s account of the Edmund Fitzgerald’s sinking. Didn’t that song suggest Lake Superior was a dangerous place?

“It was late summer when we drove up,” Kathryn continued. “Long before the really rough season. But about an hour after we set out, a squall blew up, and I went into the water. I saw the boat disappear. Daddy and Justin … we never knew if they got caught in the rigging or knocked out by the mast when it fell. Their bodies were never found.”

Kathryn started to take another drink of wine, but her mug was empty. She held it out towards Chakotay, and he filled her cup.

“I had to spend the next three months driving to the coroner’s office in Marquette, Michigan, nearly every weekend to look at corpses that washed up – six other boats capsized the same night ours did, and the dead took their time reappearing. But I never saw Daddy or Justin.”

She sighed and looked towards the stars. The pain in her eyes was old, not recent enough to cause tears now. But Chakotay could imagine the tears that had surely fallen those decades before. His heart hurt for the girl that the woman before him had once been.

“I keep reminding myself he died doing something he loved – my dad, I mean. He loved to sail, he loved to design and try out new boats. And he’d been having such fun on that trip. I have this picture in my mind of him, before the weather changed. He’s minding the tiller and laughing at something Justin said. We are all laughing.”

Kathryn was lost in her memory for a while, then spoke again.

“Sometimes I think it would have been easier if their bodies had been found, and I could have identified their bodies. We would have *known* they were dead. I mean, we knew. But there was always this sliver of hope in my mind – probably in my mother’s and my sister’s, too – that Daddy, or maybe Justin, would show up one day. None of the bodies I saw were theirs, though.”

Kathryn suddenly chuckled.

“You thought you were protecting me from being exposed to something terrible when you went to look for Eula that day. And I am glad I didn’t have to see her in that condition, not in person. But I have seen death, Chakotay. I’ve seen it ugly.”

“I am sorry you had to, Kathryn, it’s not something I would wish for you. For anyone.”

Something in Chakotay’s voice caught Kathryn’s attention. She looked at his eyes and saw her own pain.

“Who did you lose?” she asked.

Chakotay sighed and drained his mug of wine. He grabbed the bottle and refilled it.

“My father,” he finally said. “I lost my father, too.”


	23. Chapter 23

“Chakotay, you don’t have to talk about it,” Kathryn said softly.

“No,” he replied, looking at the sand. “No, I think you are someone I can talk about it with. There aren’t many people who know all of it ….”

He looked up at Kathryn and asked, “Where were you in 2005? What were you doing?”

“Oh, gosh, I was working for an engineering firm in Indianapolis – just a couple of years from moving to Chicago.”

“And your personal life?” Chakotay asked.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow but responded.

“I saw my mother and sister quite often. I dated some, but not a lot. Honestly, most of my time was focused on my work – and I’m not sure I had recovered from losing my dad and fiancé, even more than a decade later.”

Chakotay nodded and sipped his wine. He stared at his mug for a moment then spoke.

“In 2005, I was tenure track at Tulane – teaching ecology and being quite the insufferable academic. I spoke at international conferences and gave pretentious magazine interviews about first-world environmental policy hurting the economically disadvantaged all over the world. All the while, I was living in a community where people cried out for help on a daily basis, and I was too busy to pay attention.”

Chakotay sighed.

“My father was all about helping the people around him. He and my mother spent most of their retirement wandering around South Louisiana helping communities in food deserts create and maintain fruit and vegetable gardens. From the bottom of Plaquemines all the way to the Ninth Ward in New Orleans, they helped hundreds, probably thousands, of people get regular access to fresh, nutritious food. It was their passion.”

Chakotay looked at Kathryn and smiled grimly. 

“His daily work was an unspoken rebuke of my inaction. I wrote and spoke about ecological preservation, and I wore expensive suits. My father helped people access real nutrition. He wore torn, muddy jeans and work boots.”

Kathryn reached over and placed her hand on Chakotay’s arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He took a deep breath and continued.

“The summer of 2005, I was riding high. Tulane loved my growing international profile. My students were really outstanding – B’Elanna was in one of my summer seminars. I had a beautiful girlfriend, Seska, who was pregnant with my child. We’d had a few storms in the Gulf, but no major scares. By August, I was getting ready for the Fall semester and planning speaking engagements. My father was bugging me to come see his newest garden in the Ninth Ward, said it was one of the largest they’d done. He was so proud.”

Chakotay smiled a bit, then sighed. 

“But Seska didn’t want to go to that part of town, and she played on my ego, reminding me I was far too important to spend time in the dirt. I told myself she was talking about Dad’s gardens, but when she said ‘dirt,’ she was talking about the Ninth Ward. She saw those people as less – saw my parents that way, too. And I knew it. Deep inside, I knew it.”

Chakotay finally looked Kathryn right in the eye and said, “I will never lose the shame I have for that.”

There was nothing for Kathryn to say – what could be said?

“When it became apparent that Katrina was headed our way, and that it was going to be a monster, I wanted to go get my parents. But Seska wanted to evacuate to someplace nice, so I got us tickets to San Francisco. I talked with my sister, Sekaya, before we were to fly out – she was going to try and get mom and dad to head north with her, and she asked for my help. So I sent Seska to San Francisco without me, and I headed south of town with Sekaya to get our parents.”

It was then that Kathryn noticed the first tear slip from Chakotay’s eye.

“Mom came with us. But dad wasn’t home, he had gone to the city to check on some of the elderly residents that lived near their big garden. I took mom and Sekaya to Baton Rouge and then headed back to town. I was on Highway 61 when Katrina hit, I ended up hiding out in a gas station. By the time I got into New Orleans, the levees had broken. The Ninth Ward was flooding.”

Chakotay now made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. He looked at Kathryn again, and she was taken aback by the misery now on his face.

“I couldn’t find him! I had no idea where the garden was! If I had gone to see it when he’d asked, I would have known. But I only had a vague idea, and it was impossible to drive around because the streets were completely flooded. I couldn’t call mom, there was no cell service. So I joined up with this group of rescuers and helped get people out of the floods. Each time, I would ask the people we rescued if they knew my father, if they knew about the garden, but no one could help. No one.”

Chakotay leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and began to cry in earnest. Kathryn moved to sit next to him and put her arms around him. She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered, “I know, Chakotay, I am so sorry.”

After a while, he calmed. Kathryn pulled her arms back but continued to sit close to him.

“Just like you, I spent many weekends looking at bodies pulled from the water. Hundreds of them. I feel like it ate part of my soul, seeing all that death. But we never found him. We assume he was among the bodies that were too badly decomposed for recognition. We gave the authorities DNA samples for identification, but nothing ever came of it.”

Chakotay cleared his throat and smiled.

“The one thing we do know is that he died helping people. One of the women who lived in the apartment complex next to the garden said that she last saw him carrying a child though the flood waters. We don’t know whose child it was, or how long after he died, or even how he died. But he died fighting for people he loved. We have to take comfort from that.”

He looked at Kathryn and said, “I know you know what that’s like, too.”

Kathryn responded by laying her head on his shoulder again.

“After, I fell into a deep depression. Seska was having none of that – when she finally returned to New Orleans, she let me know the baby wasn’t mine. She’d been seeing other men when I was travelling, the baby was one of theirs. She wasn’t even sure whose. I was amazed by how much I didn’t care.”

“I am so sorry, Chakotay,” Kathryn whispered.

“There are only two or three people who know all of that,” he whispered in return. “I feel like I can talk to you about it, though. I feel like I can tell you anything.”

Kathryn took hold of his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Me too,” she replied. 


	24. Chapter 24

Kathryn and Chakotay sat in silence for a while, their hands clasped. Both were lost in a quiet swirl of their own memories and what each had learned about the other. But the sounds of the waves on the nearby shore calmed and soothed them.

Chakotay looked as though his dark mood had passed when he said, “Thank you for listening, Kathryn. It helps to talk with someone who knows something of what I went through.”

Kathryn squeezed his hand and said, “A burden shared is a burden eased. I am sorry you had to go through something so terrible, but I am glad you feel you can talk about it with me. And you can, whenever you feel like it. I … I think I would like to know more of the good things about your dad. And I’d like to tell you some of the good things about mine.”

“I would like that very much,” Chakotay replied softly. Then he took Kathryn’s hand, the one he held in his own, and brought it to his lips. He kissed it tenderly.

Kathryn felt her heart jump into her throat. Her face flushed and she had to concentrate on breathing. 

This is more than hormones, she thought to herself. And it’s not just the wine.

When Chakotay pulled his lips from Kathryn’s hand and looked into her eyes, he felt lightheaded. His heart pounded and he was filled with nervous excitement.

This is what I want, he thought to himself. Oh, I want to trust this.

The radio suddenly squawked to life, then quieted. But the spell was broken. For the moment, at least.

The two looked at each other a little sheepishly and chuckled. 

“More Frosted Flakes?” Kathryn finally asked.

“Please,” Chakotay replied, holding out his non-wine mug to her.

Each crunched their dry cereal quietly for a moment. They sat together now, though, not on opposite sides of the fire as before. Their backs rested against the tilted hull of _The Sacajawea_ as they at their cereal and watched the stars.

“I think it’s your turn to ask me a question,” Chakotay finally said.

Kathryn turned her head to look at him seriously. Then she said, “There is something I want to ask, but I don’t want to poke at old wounds.”

Chakotay smiled and said, “It’s fine.”

Kathryn still looked uncertain, but she went ahead.

“The woman who said she was having your child but wasn’t – is she the one you were singing ‘Love Stinks’ about with B’Elanna when the two of you came to Voyager?”

Chakotay chuckled, then grimaced.

“No, it wasn’t. Seska was fifteen years ago. No, that angry sing-along was about another woman I dated for a while. Her name was Annika. She … ugh, she was a disaster. B’Elanna called her ‘Mid-Life Crisis Barbie.’”

“Wow,” Kathryn replied, “that paints a picture.”

“Yeah, I know. I really wish I could tell you B’Elanna was totally off-base, but I am not sure she was. It kind of sucks to wake up one day and realize your life has become a cliché.”

Then Chakotay laughed.

“I think I realized how ridiculous things had gotten when I realized she had created both personal and professional accounts for me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, and Tik Tok, plus a Pinterest page. And filled all of them with content. I pretended to be excited about it all for about a week. Then, one day, when I met my sister and B’Elanna for drinks, they started showing me things Annika had posted to these pages. A lot of images of plants and quotes I had never heard of, plus a lot of ‘heart hands,’ whatever the hell that means. Sekaya and B’Elanna asked me if I even knew the passwords to these accounts – I had no idea.”

Kathryn laughed and looked at Chakotay sympathetically.

“I really kind of love that,” she admitted.

Chakotay shook his head and said, “I think I was playing a part with her. She was tall, blonde and beautiful, and she’s actually quite intelligent. And she was interested in me – or, I guess, what she thought she could turn me into. And it felt like I *should* be interested in her, so we dated. My heart was never in it, though. I really don’t think hers was, either, I think I was, I don’t know, an item to cross off a list or something – an experience she wanted to have.”

Kathryn nodded.

“You were trying to meet expectations, live up to some cultural norm,” she said.

“I guess.”

“I did the same thing, sort of,” Kathryn said with a sigh. “After my father and fiancé died, I didn’t date much. But a few years ago, I started seeing someone seriously, someone I had known as a child. Everyone was always ragging on me for being single, and it sometimes felt like I was letting people down by not being involved with anyone.”

Chakotay nodded.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of pressure to be involved with someone if you are still single in your 40’s,” he said ruefully.

“Ugh, and even more so if you are a woman,” Kathryn groaned. “So when Mark aske me out, I went. He kept asking, so I kept going. And he was fine – attractive, intelligent, everything I was supposed to want. I told myself I was happy with him. And that ‘happiness’ when you hit middle-age just somehow feels different. And if there was no reason to feel *unhappy* with Mark, then that meant I was happy and too stubborn to let myself be content.”

Kathryn looked at Chakotay sheepishly.

“When he proposed, I said ‘yes’ because I couldn’t come up with a logical reason to say ‘no.’”

“You didn’t love him,” Chakotay responded simply.

“I did not,” said Kathryn. “I cared for him, but I didn’t love him. And he knew it. He dealt with it by trying to get me more into a traditional role in his life – it was like he was trying to hang onto me by forcing me into some 1950’s housewife persona. And I reacted poorly, which made him push even harder. Towards the end, he became almost misogynistic in his attitudes about how I dressed, when and with whom I spoke, whether or not I should work, and so on.”

“Oh,” Chakotay said, his face brightening in recognition. “That’s why you got so irritated when you thought I was hiding the truth about Miss Eula’s death from you, you thought I did that because you are a woman, and that’s kind of a trigger for you.”

“Yep,” Kathryn replied.

They sat quietly for another moment or two.

“But this guy is gone, right?” Chakotay asked.

“From my life? Yes,” Kathryn replied.


	25. Chapter 25

The second wine bottle was empty, and Chakotay had gone back aboard The Sacagawea to see if he could find a third. He took that time on the boat to consider what he had learned about Kathryn – her depth, her humor, her life. 

_I want to keep learning_ , he thought.

On the sand, Kathryn was thinking much the same about Chakotay. In particular, she thought about his pain – and she found herself wanting to sooth it. She found herself very much wanting him to be happy, to be happy with her.

 _Bring it down a notch, Katie_ , she thought. She looked skyward, and saw something unexpected.

When Chakotay returned, he had a third bottle of the not-great-especially-not-with-Frosted-Flakes-but-better-than-drinking-the-Gulf-of-Mexico-merlot.

“This is the last one, we probably should slow down” he said as he took his seat next to Kathryn and pulled out his Swiss Army knife/corkscrew. He expected her to comment, but she was staring at the star-filled sky.

Suddenly, she pointed upward, wonder in her eyes.

“There’s another one! Look, Chakotay!”

Chakotay looked at the sky and thought he saw a tiny flash of light. Before he had a chance to react, though, he saw something streak across the night sky.

“Shooting stars!” he said with amazement.

“It’s too late in the year for the Perseids,” Kathryn mused. “I guess this is one of those random events.”

“Or maybe space junk reentering the atmosphere,” Chakotay offered.

They both watched the sky a little longer, then Kathryn sighed.

“Oh, I wish Eula were here. She loved meteor showers. She had a party when the Perseid shower was at its peak in early August. But she would have loved this one even more.”

“Why?” Chakotay asked.

“Unexpected lights in the sky played a part in her favorite story,” Kathryn said with a dreamy smile. “A story that had a lot to do with these islands and the founding of the town of Voyager.”

“Do you remember it?” Chakotay asked softly. “I would like to hear it.”

Kathryn looked away from the sky and to her companion.

“I will try and do it justice,” she said.

\------------

**The Story of Caedmon and Kitlyn** **, as told to Kathryn Janeway by Eula Crossett**

_In the 1700’s, there was a Portuguese pirate who roamed the Caribbean and the Gulf. His name was Caedmon, which meant “warrior.” He was bold and brave, and he was ruthless to a point. He despised slavers and would kill them on sight. He never killed the sailors he deemed to be honorable, and he refused to steal from the families that sailed to the New World seeking better fortunes. But the gold and treasures belonging to conquerors and nations, he would take those for his own._

_One day, he sighted a large, well-built ship called **The Voyager**. It was formerly an English warship, but was now being used as a slave ship. Captain Caedmon knew the reputation of the captain, Martim, a former Portuguese naval officer. Captain Martim was known for his cruelty – he had been dismissed from the navy for his treatment of his sailors, and had gone into the ugliest trade that ever existed, the capture and enslavement of humans. This was not a man Caedmon could allow to live – so he got his small crew together to attack the ship. _

_Captain Caedmon knew his men would be outmanned and outgunned, and it was likely the raid would end in their deaths. But his crew, being devoted to their captain and his sense of honor, agreed that they would not allow Martim to continue his brutal career. They hoisted the Jolly Roger and sailed towards their enemy._

_But **The Voyager** didn’t fire on them as they approached, and when Caedmon boarded it, he was not met with swords or muskets, but by a woman. A beautiful woman who wore the pants of a man, with her long red hair blowing in the wind._

_She said her name was Kitlyn, she was Celtic. She had been “given” to Martim by her uncle in payment for a debt. Martim had called her his wife, but she insisted she was not his._

_“Where is Martim, now, lady?” Captain Caedmon asked the woman. “If you do not object, I will happily relieve you of his attentions.”_

_“I have no need of your assistance, as goodly as you may offer it,” Kitlyn replied in a strong voice. “Martim’s attentions most lately were devoted to his lack of breath, as I deprived him of that sustaining privilege when I threw his bound body overboard and he sank to the depths. I presume his attentions now are focused on the fire that surrounds him, for surely he rests in Hell.”_

_Kitlyn took a step towards Caedmon and said gravely, “Do not call me ‘lady,’ for my heart no longer is a place for pleasant things. Call me ‘Captain,’ this ship is mine.”_

_Captain Caedmon had never encountered a woman like this. She spoke with as much confidence and courage as any man Caedmon had ever known on the sea._

_“Captain, I meant no offense,” he replied. “While I am unaccustomed to seeing a mighty ship run by one so fair, I do not object to it. Our God in heaven saw fit to withhold wisdom and spirit from many men, I do not wonder that He chose to grant it to certain women.”_

_Kitlyn seemed pleased with his response, yet she did not sheath her sword._

_“Fair words, Captain,” she replied warily. “Yet your ship approached us quickly and still flies the flag of attack. State your intentions quickly, else be on your way.”_

_Caedmon bowed and said, “My apologies, I approached this ship thinking it under the leadership of Martim. My men and I expected a battle.”_

_At this, Kitlyn looked at Caedmon’s ship. It was half the size of **The Voyager**._

_“Had my own task against Martim been thwarted and he lived still, you would have surely been met with great violence upon boarding,” Kitlyn replied with raised eyebrows. “Were you seeking Martim or your own death?”_

_Caedmon stood straight and replied, “Captain, there are certain kinds of men who I cannot abide. Martim was cruel and criminal, he caused the suffering of countless innocents. I make no claim of virtue in my own vocation, but I considered it the opposite of virtue to allow a devil of his sort to exist unchallenged. Had I met Martim as I desired, and still met death, I would have considered it a worthy trade._

_Kitlyn looked into the eyes of this dark Portuguese. She saw honor in his bearing and truth in his face. She put away her sword._

_“Forgive my wariness, Captain,” she said. “I judge you to be decent. Please, join me at my table for bread and wine.”_


	26. Chapter 26

**The Story of Caedmon and Kitlyn, continued**

_As they ate, Caedmon and Kitlyn shared with each other bits of their own histories. Caedmon told how the death of his family caused him to abandon his home of Porto and sail for the new world. Kitlyn explained how the loss of her own parents put her in her uncle’s house._

_“My uncle was indebted to many men, and Martim purchased one of his notes. He tore the note up in exchange for me joining him on his ship. I had no wish to go, but it was either me or my sister. So I agreed.”_

_Caedmon looked at the woman sitting across the table from him._

_“Was Martim … was he … kind … to you?” he asked hesitantly._

_Kitlyn’s blue eyes flashed across the table._

_“What do you think?” she asked harshly. “I would not kill a virtuous man – I wouldn’t even kill a useless one.”_

_She took a large drink of her wine and stared at Caedmon._

_“The qualities that made you despise Martim, Captain – the cruelty, the violence. Imagine how those qualities would have been manifest on a woman trapped in his quarters.”_

_Caedmon closed his eyes and willed down the anger that began boiling in him._

_“I would kill him for you, lady, had you not already done the good deed,” he said with passion._

_“I told you, do not call me ‘lady,’” Kitlyn replied, but she was smiling._

_That afternoon, Caedmon talked with his most trusted men. They had spent time getting to know the men and women who sailed The Voyager._

_The stories shared by that crew backed up what Kitlyn had said. Many of Martim’s men had been unaware that they were joining the slave trade when they signed on with him. They also had apparently been very uncomfortable with Martim’s ill use of the woman in his charge. Kitlyn had seen the reluctance among many of them and had persuaded them to her side. When she made her move against Martim, they did not come to his aid._

_And she had clearly earned the devotion of the crew, most of them men who had been destined to enslavement on the plantations of the New World. When Martim had died, Captain Kitlyn had set them free and offered them the choice of sailing with her, or their freedom in Jamaica – this was the same choice she gave Martim’s former crew._

_Caedmon’s crew had discovered that Kitlyn was about to have a problem, though. So many of the former crew and enslaved people were desiring to leave the ship at Jamaica. This would leave **The Voyager** with too few sound bodies to keep her going._

_That night, Caedmon invited Kitlyn to his own ship for dinner. When she arrived, she was still in her pants, and she wore a doublet that was entirely too large for her. But she had tamed her hair and washed her face. Caedmon thought she looked lovely._

_They ate a stew prepared by one of Caedmon’s men and drank wine brought by Kitlyn. They made light conversation for a while. But both seemed to know that a grave question must soon be asked._

_“Captain, your face betrays your mind – do you have a serious matter to discuss?” Kitlyn asked as they strolled on the deck._

_“I do, Captain,” Caedmon replied. “My men tell me that you are soon to be minus more than half of your crew and company. I fear you will not be able to manage **The Voyager** with so few hands.”_

_Kitlyn nodded and said, “The tale your men tell could be true. I have not counted the number of those wishing to leave in many weeks, but I fear it will be large. I do not blame them. Many of them were taken from their homes without choice. Their constitutions were not made for the sea. And of the crew, many joined because of untruths told by Martim. I would not consider it honorable to hold them to an oath made to another, particularly in such false circumstances.”_

_She turned and looked at Caedmon._

_“What do you suggest I do, sir?” she asked._

_Caedmon answered her question with one of his own._

_“What do you desire?” he asked._

_Kitlyn looked at the sea._

_“I desire freedom,” she said. “I have no home, no family. I only have this ship and my will. I want to go where they take me.”_

_She turned back to Caedmon and said, “I want a new life.”_

_Caedmon smiled gently at her and said, “And that is what I wish to give you.”_

_At that moment, Kitlyn saw a flame shoot across the sky. It split into two and fell to the earth – from her vantage point, it was as though the two streaks came down on either side of his head, framing his face._

\------------

“At last, a shooting star!” Chakotay exclaimed.

Kathryn shot him a look and said, “I’m sorry, are you bored?”

“No, this is interesting,” Chakotay said with a smile. “But I was starting to wonder where the shooting stars were. I was promised shooting stars.”

“Shut up, there are more to come,” Kathryn said.

\------------

_“A star falling from the sky means new life child.”_

_In her mind, Kitlyn heard the voice of her long-dead grandmother._

_Kitlyn had told Caedmon she wanted a new life, and then a star fell. It was a good omen._


	27. Chapter 27

“So Kitlyn decided that the shooting star meant *she* could have a new life?” Chakotay asked.

“She did,” Kathryn replied. 

“With Caedmon?” Chakotay inquired.

“That may not have been her original thought, but life takes you funny places,” Kathryn mused.

Chakotay smiled, silently agreeing with her in his heart. Then he remembered another question he meant to ask.

“So, is Voyager, Florida, named after the ship?”

Kathryn raised an eyebrow at him and asked in return, “Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

Chakotay stood, picked up his cushion, and moved to lay down next to where Kathryn was reclining against the hull of _The Sacagawea_. His head was mere inches away from her hip.

“I can hear you better if I am closer,” he said with a dimpled grin.

\------------

_The months went by with Caedmon, Kitlyn, and their assorted crew together on **The Voyager**. The men and women on the boat had wondered how the two captains would lead together, but any concerns they may have had were soon proven needless._

_Kitlyn had gift for navigation. She could read the stars like they were one of the two treasured books Martim had allowed her to bring when he took her from her home. She also had an almost mystical understanding of the moods of the seas. Caedmon often found himself deferring to her judgement._

_Caedmon understood the weather. He could judge the favorability of the winds by their scent and flavor. And, somehow, he always knew which shores sighted in the distance would prove fair or foul – which bays would hide them from other pirates or naval ships, which islands had the easiest access to fresh water, etc. Kitlyn conceded to his expertise when it came to sheltering from storms or taking on provisions._

_The crew felt that between the two, they had the ideal captain._

_The pair shared the captain’s cabin, though they took great pains in letting all know they did not share a bed. The door to the room remained open at all times. Kitlyn refused to sleep on the bed she’d been made to share with Martim for more than a year, so Caedmon used it (after throwing the ticking and linens overboard). She instead slept on rolls of cotton they had taken from one of the last ships they had raided, a small merchant vessel in the northern Gulf that was full of human and other cargo._

_For, together, Kitlyn and Caedmon had found their callings, to raid the ships of slavers and set free the captives._

_With every set of irons Kitlyn removed from a man, woman, or child heartlessly taken from their homes across the sea, she felt herself freer. Each time she threw their chains into the sea, the prison Martim had made for her felt further and further away._

_For his part, Caedmon relished the feeling of once again doing something decent. He had been so angry over the loss of his family for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to feel anything other than grim satisfaction. For the first time in years, his heart felt light._

_Caedmon was thinking of this one night as he prepared for sleep. On the other side of the cabin, Kitlyn was on her mat, reading one of her books by candlelight._

_“Lady,” he began – this is what he called her in confines their cabin, and where she had taken to teasingly calling him “Lord” – “would you read to me something happy? Something lovely? I wish to hear words that match my mood.”_

_Kitlyn looked at her book, the Bible, and said, “I do not think the Ecclesiastes will suit your mood, Lord.” She reached for the other book she kept in her small chest of belongings._

_She smiled at Caedmon and said, “I shall open my book and read whatever words present themselves. Fate will decide if you if find them pleasing or not.”_

_She opened her book and began reading._

_“_ _Let me not to the marriage of true minds_ _  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”_

_Kitlyn closed the book in her hands. She turned to look at Caedmon. His face showed him to be in deep thought. When he looked up at Kitlyn, he regarded her seriously._

_“Thank you, Lady,” he said quietly. “Fate was good to me this night, for those words were fine ones.”_

_Kitlyn felt a shyness she’d not experienced in her dealings with Caedmon. She suddenly became far more aware of his proximity to her than she’d ever been before. It was intoxicating._

_She blew out the candle and lay her head down. Then, surprising herself, she asked, “Did the sonnet suit your mood?”_

_“It did.”_

_A few night later, Kitlyn stood on the deck of **The Voyager** and watched the sun set. The breeze blew her hair about, and she marveled at the colors she saw in the distance. The first stars were appearing._

_Suddenly, a bright streak flew across the sky. Another falling star._

_She knew Caedmon was approaching her before she heard his steps – he always took great care to shuffle one foot on the deck when he approached her, lest she be startled by him. Recently, though, the noise was unnecessary, Kitlyn found she could sense him wherever he was on the ship._

_Caedmon stood next to Kitlyn and they watched the last of the light disappear. Finally, he spoke._

_“Lady, if I asked you to be my wife, would you?”_

_Kitlyn took a deep breath and turned to look at him. She placed a hand on his cheek, touching him for the first time._

_“I would, Lord,” she replied._

_Caedmon’s eye lit up for a moment, then became serious again. He took her hand from his face and held it lightly._

_“Why would you?” he asked. “Would you marry me out of any obligation? Out of fear? Because you fear it is my intent to force myself on you like Martim did, and you wish for an easier arrangement by appeasing me? Why would you marry me, Lady?”_

_Kitlyn stepped closer to Caedmon and pulled his hand to her heart._

_“I would marry you because it is what I desire. I am not offering myself as any kind of payment, nor do I fear your wrath were I to refuse. But I do not refuse. I come to you, freely, because it is what I wish.”_

_Caedmon took a deep, shaking breath and pulled her to him._

\------------

Kathryn and Chakotay sat quietly for a moment, lost in the spell of the story. Chakotay finally broke the silence.

“I can’t believe you remember that entire sonnet.”

“Neither can I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet is Shakespeare's 116th.


	28. Chapter 28

**_The Story of Caedmon and Kitlyn, continued_ **

_A few days later, **The Voyager** arrived at Havana. Caedmon had friends there, including a missionary from his home of Porto. He would ask Goncalo to come to the ship to marry them._

_The ship’s crew was overjoyed that their captains would soon be wed. Some went ashore to find baked goods, fruit, and wine for celebration. The women from the ship purchased fabric to make a skirt for Kitlyn to wear with her red doublet, which they altered to better fit her feminine form. Others conspired with the bride to find a gift for Caedmon, and yet others did the same with Caedmon for Kitlyn._

_They married on their ship at sunset. Caedmon’s friend performed a basic ceremony and then joined the assembled for an hour of merrymaking. Not long after, though, Kitlyn and Caedmon retired to their cabin._

_Caedmon said, “I have a gift for you.” He took a small item from the pouch at his waist and handed it to Kitlyn. It was a hair comb decorated in shining Mother-of-Pearl._

_Kitlyn was silent staring at the beautiful thing her new husband had given her. Caedmon, unsure of her silence, began to speak nervously._

_“I thought it would look nice against your hair – the blue that shines from it in certain light reminds me of your eyes – but if it is not to your liking, I ….”_

_Kitlyn stopped his rambling with a kiss._

_“I adore it,” she said with a large smile. “I will treasure it always. Please, help me put it on.”_

_Caedmon exhaled in relief and gathered her hair. He gently slid the comb where he twisted her hair at her neck._

_“It is a lovely thing, Lady, but your face outshines it,” he said softly._

_Kitlyn smiled and said, “Your words are lovelier, Lord. But before I demonstrate my thanks, I have a gift for you.” And she picked up an item laying on the table, wrapped up in plain paper._

_Caedmon removed the paper and found a shiny brass sextant._

_“Oh, Kitlyn, this is magnificent,” he said. He stepped to a porthole and held the instrument to his face, judging its weight and lines._

_Kitlyn stepped over and took the instrument from him, and pointed to the index arm. Caedmon looked where she pointed and saw engraved in the brass, “K paz C.”_

_He looked at his wife questioningly._

_“You know ‘paz’ is Portuguese for ‘peace.’ Our initials are on either side. This is to remind both of us that together, we have peace,” she said._

_Caedmon looked at her with great love._

_Eventually, the comb and the sextant found their homes on nearby shelves. And for the first time since the liberation of **The Voyager** , the door to the captains’ cabin was closed._

\------------

“And they lived happily ever after?” Chakotay asked.

Kathryn sighed and said, “Sadly, no.”

\------------

_Early in the next spring, **The Voyager** returned to Havana. Caedmon intended to seek out his friend Goncalo, but was surprised to see him waiting at the port._

_“Caedmon, you must leave now,” he said grimly._

_“Old friend, why?” Caedmon asked in surprise as Kitlyn joined them._

_Goncalo glanced at the woman and sighed._

_“I am sorry to confront you both with indelicate questions,” he said, “but were you, Madame, once on this ship with a man named Martim?”_

_Kitlyn inhaled quickly and Caedmon put his arm around her protectively._

_“What business is it of yours,” he hissed angrily at his friend._

_“It is not my business,” Goncalo responded. “But there is a man who has been coming to Havana every fortnight or so for many months. His name is Rodolfo, and he claims to be the brother of a man named Martim who sailed on **The Voyager** with his Celtic wife.”_

_“I was not his wife, I was his captive,” Kitlyn spit out._

_“I do not doubt you, if the cruelty of Rodolfo is any indication of the nature of his brother,” Goncalo replied with a grimace. “But he seeks you both. He has word of his brother’s death, and he desires vengeance, he desires your blood, he desires your ship. You must make great haste and leave Havana.”_

_And so they did._

_Sadly, word reached Rodolfo that the missionary Goncalo had been seen speaking with the false “captains” of his brother’s ship. So Rodolfo had the man brought to him._

_The missionary withstood an entire day of torture at the hands of the vengeful brother of Martim before finally admitting that Caedmon, Kitlyn, and their crew had made for the northern Gulf of Mexico. Then Rodolfo ran him through._

_As the spring turned to summer, **The Voyager** stayed on the move. They ceased putting into port at the larger towns and raided fewer slave ships, lest they be spotted by any ally of Rodolfo’s. Instead, they would send a skiff of two or three men onshore to smaller villages for provisions and news. Both were difficult to come by, and what they could get was often bad._

_Rodolfo had secured a second ship by promising wealthy island plantation owners that he could stop **The Voyager’s** assault on the slave trade. The landowners, having seen their own purses diminished by the actions of Kitlyn and Caedmon, enthusiastically backed Rodolfo’s mission._

_**The Voyager’s** _ _crew were passionately loyal to their captains. However, they were afraid. They had all heard tales of the cannons Rodolfo had outfitted his pursuing vessels with, weapons that could reportedly be fired from a much greater distance that those on their own ship._

_The crew did not complain to Kitlyn or Caedmon – they didn’t need to. The captains were greatly worried over the fates of their shipmates._

_“Did you know that Mary and Serafina are both with child?” Kitlyn asked Caedmon one night as they rested on their bed on the floor._

_“Really?” Caedmon asked with a smile. “Kem and Josiah must be overjoyed.”_

_Kitlyn rested her head on Caedmon’c chest and replied, “Our present circumstance does not leave either couple with much room for joy, Lord. They are afraid, though I believe they are too loyal to ever say so to you or I.”_

_Caedmon sighed._

_“I cannot divine an easy path for us, Lady, or those who serve with us. I do not mind running from Rodolfo – as much as I may wish to face him and end his threat to us once and for all, I know that we are ill-prepared for battle. And I will happily run to the ends of the earth with you at my side. I doubt, though, that this is the life our crew desires.”_

_He leaned back and, with his hand, tilted her head to look him in the eye._

_“Give me counsel, Lady. Is it right to make our burden theirs also?”_

_Kitlyn looked at her husband thoughtfully for a moment. Then she said quietly, “It is not right. Despite their pledges of loyalty, it is not right to bound their fates to ours.”_

_She sat up and turned to face him._

_“If it were as simple as you and I leaving the ship, I would do it. I would spend eternity with you in a skiff happily. But Rodolfo desires this ship as much as our blood, he will take it even if you and I depart.”_

_Caedmon nodded and replied, “And you and I cannot manage the ship alone. Even if we found a place for our men and women to settle, we could neither join them nor sail away.”_

_They sat in the quiet for another moment or two. Then they both leaned forward, their foreheads meeting._

_“I love you, Lord,” Kitlyn said._

_“And I love you, Lady,” Caedmon replied._


	29. Chapter 29

Kathryn took a momentary break from her story to sip a little more wine. Chakotay was laying on the sand next to her looking upward.

“I think I am getting too invested in this story,” he said with a sigh. “I am staring at the sky, hoping to see a shooting star that I can make a wish on, but a wish for Caedmon and Kitlyn.”

\------------

_The next day, Kitlyn and Caedmon called a meeting of their crew._

_“Dear friends, every day we remain at sea takes us all closer to a poor ending at the hands of our pursuer,” Kitlyn announced._

_“Our greatest desire is to see you freed of the threat of Rodolfo – that cannot happen if we hold you in service to us on this ship,” Caedmon added._

_The crew began murmuring, and finally, one of Caedmon’s longest-serving, most-trusted aides, Samuel, stepped forward._

_“Captains, we thank you for your consideration. However, **The Voyager** is our home. Where else can we go?”_

_Caedmon glanced at Kitlyn, and she nodded. He continued speaking._

_“There are places in the New World that can be your home. The shores of Florida boast more than one small community made of freedmen and women of all races. All that is needed to settle in such a place is a deep purse.”_

_With that, Kitlym took the sacks off two chests that were on the deck nearby and opened both. They were full of gold, silver, and gems._

_“These spoils we have collected over these years belong to you. We give them to you, our friends, that you may settle in a place that will allow you to live as you desire, free and unencumbered,” Kitlyn said. Then, looking where Mary and Serafina stood, she added, “You and your children.”_

_Then Kitlyn moved to stand by her husband, her hands on her kips. Caedmon’s arms were crossed. All the crew recognized what this meant – the decision had been made. No debate was to be had._

_The next day, they made for the coast of Florida. They sailed for several days in favorable winds before reaching shallower waters. Eventually, they sighted a small island known to the crew as “Isla Base.” It was a small spot a few miles from the mainland where a ship could moor and rest before continuing a journey to the main shores of the Northern Gulf._

\------------

“Wait,” exclaimed Chakotay. “’Isla Base’ means ‘Base Island.’ That’s where we are right now, Big Base Island. They landed here?”

Kathryn smiled and said, “Back then, it was still one island. No one knows if it was specifically this end of the original island, or over on Little Base, or in the part that was washed away more than a century ago. But, yes, according to the story, they came here.”

“Wow,” Chakotay said softly. He looked around – though only able to see a few feet into the darkness, it was as though he was looking for Caedmon or Kitlyn to appear.

“Wow,” he repeated.

\------------

_The day **The Voyager** reached Isla Base, Samuel asked to speak with his captains in their cabin._

_“We know you plan to leave us,” he said, not wasting time with niceties. “And we understand your reasons. You are sacrificing your comfort, your ship, to make all of us safe. We did not ask this of you, but we know it would be fruitless to refuse this gift, as you are both stubborn.”_

_When both Kitlyn and Caedmon raised their eyebrows at him, Samuel smiled and looked at the deck. When he looked back up, his eyes were bright._

_“It is a good gift,” he choked out, and he held out his hand to his captains. They both took it, and the three shared a moment of friendship._

_“It is a good gift,” Samuel said again, clearing his throat and retrieving his hand. “But we all feel that we must make some small thanks to you.”_

_He took off the leather pouch he had on his shoulder and handed it to Caedmon._

_“After you divided the spoils, all of us met and decided that each of us should give some of our share to you, that you might use it to find your way to whatever home is destined for you. Though, to all of us, it seems a pitiful ‘thanks.’"_

_Kitlyn looked in the pouch. It was full of gold. She began to protest, but Samuel held up a hand._

_“You gave many of us liberty, dignity, and friendship. And now you seek to give us all safety and freedom. Allow us this privilege.”_

_And he nodded at them both and left the cabin._

_Caedmon and Kitlyn were overcome with emotion at the kindness of their crew. Caedmon put the pouch into Kitlyn’s small chest to join the other treasures there – her books, the comb Caedmon had given her on their wedding day, and the sextant she had given him. Then the two embraced._

_The moment was broken, though, when they heard shouting on the deck._

_Samuel stuck his head back in the cabin, a grave look on his face, and said, “Ships have been seen in the spyglass. It is Rodolfo.”_

_It was late afternoon, and Rodolfo’s ships were too far away to reach them before darkness fell. Kitlyn and Caedmon talked quietly for a moment, then ordered **The Voyager** to sail to the other side of the island. _

_Once on the other side of the island, they could decide where to go next. Rodolfo would not be entirely certain which direction they had sailed, so he might split his force in two, each ship heading to a different end of the island. That could buy **The Voyager** some time._

_That night, Kitlyn watched the sky for falling stars. She saw none._

_The next morning, Rodolfo’s ships approached Isla Base. Rodolfo, looking through the spyglass, was surprised to see his prey sitting on the beach – the Celtic woman and the Portuguese man were waiting for him._

_When he moored his ships of the island, he sent two of his men to retrieve Kitlyn and Caedmon. They were brought to the main deck of Rodolfo’s ship, **The Equinox**._

_“Who would have thought a red-headed whore and a failed pirate could run so far,” he asked them both with a sneer._

_Neither reacted, though. They just stared at Rodolfo with cold eyes. Rodolfo stared back._

_“Where is my ship?” he finally asked._

_“We stand on it now,” Caedmon replied. “Unless you mean the ship to starboard. I do not believe you own any other ship.”_

_Rodolfo slapped Caedmon and said, “I refer to **The Voyager**. It was my brother’s ship. It became mine at his death.”_

_Then Rodolfo leered at Kitlyn and added, “Everything that belonged to my brother became mine at his death.”_

_Kitlyn looked at him coolly and said, “Your bother died owning only the clothes on his back. They have been at the bottom of the sea for a great while, with his pitiful corpse rotting in them, I doubt you would desire them now.”_

_Rodolfo raised his hand to strike Kitlyn, but was stopped when one of his men shouted._

_“Captain! There are cannons on the island, they are aimed at us and being loaded! We are being fired upon!”_


	30. Chapter 30

**_The Story of Caedmon and Kitlyn, concluded_ **

_Kitlyn and Caedmon both dove for cover as they heard the whistle of a cannonball rushing toward **The Equinox.** Just as they hit the deck, they heard a crash, and explosion, and the splintering of wood. At least one cannonball had found its target._

_The night before, when **The Voyager** sailed to the other side of Isla Base, the crew took two of her cannons and spent the night rolling them on planks to the Gulf side of the island. Kitlyn and Caedmon intended to make themselves visible to Rodolfo at first light the next day – they knew his thirst for revenge would blind him to all else that might be on shore. He would not notice the large guns partially covered by sand dunes and scrub brush._

_The crew decided that once the firing began, a small dinghy from **The Voyager** would set off from Isla Base to whichever ship Kitlyn and Caedmon were on. The Captains would have to free themselves of whatever bounded them and try to swim out to meet the tiny boat. _

_Rodolfo had left one of his men to watch over the captives while he took charge of the battle. Several minutes passed. They were almost free of the ropes that held their arms when they heard a loud explosion. Their guard ran off to join the fight, and Kitlyn looked up for a moment to see what had happened._

_“The bow of the other ship was blown off!” she gasped out to Caedmon. “It is sinking!”_

_“And this one will too, soon enough,” he replied. “We must free our arms and escape, Lady!”_

_“Yes, Lord!” she said, and she leaned over to give him a quick kiss as she twisted her arms behind her back, loosening the ropes. When her hands were finally free, she moved behind Caedmon to undo his bounds._

_Explosions continued to sound all around them. The guns they had taken off **The Voyager** were good but small. Caedmon worried that **The Equinox** was not being damaged as much as they had hoped. He started to say something to Kitlyn about it, when he realized she was no longer seated behind him._

_He turned and saw her on her knees a few feet away, her hair in the hand of Rodolfo. He was pulling her along the deck, screaming profane words at her while blood poured from the place his right eye once was._

_Caedmon struggled to his feet, his hands still bound. He ran after his wife and the man dragging her towards the stern._

_Rodolfo saw the muscular man running towards him and stopped, taking his free hand from his face and gabbing the dagger from his belt. He held it to Kitlyn’s throat._

_Caedmon stopped. The three stared at one another for a couple of seconds. Them several things happened at once._

_As though from nowhere, Samuel jumped over the railing of the ship. He called out to both Caedmon and Kitlyn, momentarily distracting Rodolfo. Kitlyn took advantage and bit Rodolfo’s hand, causing him to drop the dagger. She then used her elbow to strike a painful blow to his manhood. This caused the injured man to let go of her hair, and she rolled towards Samuel._

_Caedmon saw Kitlyn move away from Rodolfo, and with a roar, he charged the brother of Martim. Both men landed on the deck. Caedmon was able to stand fairly quickly, but Rodolfo rolled on the deck in pain._

_Caedmon turned to look at Kitlyn, and he smiled. She smiled back._

_Then a whistle. And another explosion, this one at the stern of **The Equinox**._

_Where Rodolfo had just laid, there was a gaping hole. The smoke from the blast cleared in time for Samuel and Kitlyn to see Caedmon fall backwards into the abyss._

_“No!” Kitlyn screamed. She ran to the edge of the hole in the ship, Samuel beside her. They looked down but could only see steam – the hold of the ship was on fire, and sea water was rushing in._

_Samuel grabbed her arm and said, “We must go! The ship will soon sink!”_

_Kitlyn wrenched her arm away from Samuel, and she looked at him with wild eyes._

_“Caedmon is down there! I must find him!” And she jumped into the burning, swirling mass below._

_Samuel stared after her for a while, looking desperately for any sign of his captains. Then, grief-stricken, he escaped the burning ship and made it back to shore on the dinghy._

_**The Equinox** _ _sank within minutes of his departure._

\------------

“They both died, their bodies were never found,” Kathryn said quietly.

Chakotay stared at the sky, not really seeing it. He did not know why his heart was hurting so badly for the people in this story, people who might not have even existed.

Kathryn said, “The crew of _The Voyager_ sailed the ship to the Florida shore. They dismantled it and used the timbers to build shelters. They used their gold to buy provisions, start farms, and even build a small mill. The founded the town of Voyager.”

“I was hoping to hear that Kitlyn and Caedmon founded the town,” Chakotay replied sadly. “But I am glad the crew made it. How many of the current townspeople can trace their lineage back to the original settlers?”

“I don’t think anyone can,” she replied. “The town was hit hard by influenza a few years after the founding, more than half the original settlers died. The Civil War took others. I think the last direct descendants were wiped out during the storm that cut Isla Base into two islands. At least, that’s what Eula told me.”

Kathryn pulled her knees closer to her and rested her chin on them.

“Eula loved that story, she must have told it to me half a dozen times,” she said sadly.

Chakotay thought about that for a moment, then got a thoughtful look on his face.

“You were so upset when you looked at the pictures of Eula’s home and saw that her sextant was missing. That wasn’t the sextant from the story, was it?”

“Yes and no,” Kathryn replied. “I mean, it wasn’t the actual one Kitlyn gave to Caedmon, so ‘no.’ But it was a replica Eula had made, so, in a way, ‘yes.’ However, some people who take the legend as fact might have thought it was the actual sextant, which might explain why she was killed.”

Chakotay looked at Kathryn questioningly.

“Local lore has it that when the 19th century storm split the island, several artifacts from that last battle washed up on the Voyager shore, including the original sextant. Supposedly, the night before the fight, Kitlyn and Caedmon hid the leather pouch containing their gold, and they etched clues to the treasure’s whereabouts on the sextant. But the treasure has never been found. If someone truly believed that Eula had Caedmon’s actual sextant in her home, and they believed it contained a way to find that gold, well, they could easily have killed her for it.”

Kathryn chuckled and said, “The funny thing is, if it had been the real sextant Eula did have an idea where the treasure was, Eula probably would have just given the gold to whoever sought. She really didn't care about wealth. And she always said the real treasure was the story itself, not any gold or gems that might one day be found.”

Chakotay smiled in the dark and said, “I think she’s right.” Then he yawned loudly.

“I guess you’ve had your bedtime story, so it’s time to go to sleep,” Kathryn said lightly.

Chakotay turned to look at her and said, “Thank you for the story, Kathryn. Good night.”

Kathryn scooted away from the hull of _The Sacagawea_ and laid down, her head about a foot from Chakotay’s. Soon, they were both asleep.

Above them, with a bright flash, a star fell to earth.


	31. Chapter 31

“Ms. Janeway. Kathryn.”

“Ugh, go away.”

“Kathryn, if you don’t wake up, I am going to put a hermit crab in your hair.”

Kathryn opened one eye and saw Harry Kim smiling at her. And, damn if he wasn’t holding a calcified snail shell which was *probably* housing an irritated hermit crab.

And Kathryn hated hermit crabs.

“OK, I’m up” she said, and she rolled her body into a somewhat-seated position. She looked to her right and saw Chakotay being pulled back into the land of the living by a chuckling B’Elanna Torres.

Kathryn looked up towards Harry’s face again, squinting against the early-morning sunlight that seemed far brighter than it should have been. A terrible pain shot through her head and she groaned. She heard Chakotay making a similar noise to her side.

“I don’t doubt it,” B’Elanna said far too loudly. “Did you two really drink all three bottles of wine?”

“That was all we could find on the boat,” Chakotay replied from behind his hands, which were covering his entire face.

“Well,” Kathryn said, gesturing to an empty box a few feet away, “wine and Frosted Flakes. I take it Tom is OK?”

B’Elanna replied, “He is, yes, though he needs to take it easy for a few days. Breakfast cereal and wine, huh? No wonder you two look as bad as you do.”

Harry reached into his pack and pulled out a couple of bottles of water and granola bars.

“I recommend you start on the water first, and slowly. You can nibble on the granola as we walk back across the island to the dock, my dad is waiting for us with our boat.”

Chakotay and Kathryn took the bottles of water gratefully as Harry and B’Elanna gathered up the bottles, mugs, and cushions strewn about the sand to put back on _The Sacagawea_. Then they headed for the boardwalk that crossed to the shore side of Big Base.

As they walked, Harry and B’Elanna told them more about the incident at Little Base and Tom’s injuries.

“It could have been a lot worse,” B’Elanna said. “The bullet missed his femoral artery, but he still lost a fair amount of blood. The Doctor sewed it up and he needs to stay off it for a couple of days, just so the wound can heal.”

Kathryn sighed in relief. 

“That’s good news. Did you run into any trouble headed back?”

Harry shook his head and said, “No, B’Elanna did a great job as a lookout – we avoided most of a major underwater debris. Tom was able to remain pretty alert, so he helped me with some of the trickier navigation. He also kept an eye out for red speedboats.”

At that last statement, Harry shared a significant look with Kathryn, who sighed heavily in response.

“You recognized the boat, then? Was is the Cardona boys?” she asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied grimly.

“Not that your Chief Tuvok believes us,” B’Elanna retorted.

“Tuvok didn’t believe you? Who did he think shot Tom?” Chakotay asked in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t believe us, I think it’s that we have no proof. We saw a couple of guys on shore and a red speedboat. That’s not exactly a positive ID.”

Chakotay replied, “I get it. Yes, those guys basically threatened us before we left Voyager. And from what Kathryn tells me, they might have thought they had reason to be on Little Base *and* reason to keep others off of it. But suspicions and innuendo don’t make good legal cases.”

“What reason did they have to be on the island?” B’Elanna asked.

“They were looking for Caedmon and Kitlyn’s treasure,” Chakotay replied.

At that, Harry and B’Elanna stopped walking. They looked curiously at their companions, then both spoke at once.

“Who? Treasure? What are you talking about?” B’Elanna asked Chakotay, while Harry, at the same time looked at Kathryn and asked, “You told him that old story? How drunk were you?”

Chakotay and Kathryn looked at each other. In the harsh light of day, and with joint hangovers, believing in the story of the doomed lovers all of a sudden seemed a little silly. 

“Uhh …,” Kathryn started. Despite the bottle of water she had nearly finished, she felt quite cotton-mouthed.

B’Elanna and Harry looked at her expectantly.

“It’s local lore, B’Elanna, I’ll explain it to you later,” Chakotay said. “Harry, Kathryn told me the story to explain why someone might have been at Little Base armed and willing to take a shot at anyone else approaching.”

Harry thought about that for a moment and said, “I guess if someone really believes that story … come to think of it, my dad has often said that people like to check the barrier islands all along the Gulf after hurricanes to look for washed-up pirate booty. Do y’all think the Cardona’s might believe something is still buried on Little Base?”

“Who knows what they believe,” Kathryn replied. “But one thing that occurred to me last night is that anyone who does take the legend seriously might have had a motive to kill Eula. I mean, she was the biggest believer in Caedmon and Kitlyn, and she was more versed in local history than anyone. If someone thought she had any ideas about the location of a treasure, they might have killed her for it.”

At that Harry whistled.

“Damn, that’s right. I grew up hearing Eula tell that story. She was certain it was true and that the treasure would be found one day. How did she put it? She’d say stuff like, ‘Harry, that treasure’s gonna be found one day, I swannie! And it’ll be some folks who ain’t even lookin’ for it. That’s why there ain’t no sense in you or anyone else here lookin’, cause if you look, you sure as hell won’t find a thing.’”

B’Elanna threw her hands in the air and loudly demanded, “What treasure? Will someone tell me this story?”

Kathryn chuckled and said, “When we get back to Voyager. It’s going to be hard to do it justice on a noisy shrimp boat.”

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached the dock and the Kim’s boat, _The Libby_.

“Glad to see the two of you survived the night,” Mr. Kim said with a smile as he helped Kathryn onboard. At the same time, Chakotay pulled B’Elanna aside for a second.

“Hey, do yourself a favor, B’Elanna. Let Tom Paris tell you the story of Caedmon and Kitlyn and their treasure,” he said.

“Tom? Why?” B’Elanna asked. Then she looked back towards Kathryn, then again at Chakotay. He blushed and tugged at his ear.

“Oooohhhhhh,” she replied with a grin. “That good, huh?”

Chakotay grinned back and said, “Maybe.”


	32. Chapter 32

The Kim’s boat, built for shrimping, not for pleasure sailing, was kind of loud. So little conversation took place on the short trip back to Voyager.

Kathryn sat on one of the benches near the pilot house. She worked on the third bottle of water and thought about the night before.

_Was it the wine? Had the night been as special as it had felt at the time?_

Chakotay sat nearby on a pile of recently-mended trawl netting. His eyes were closed, as though he were asleep. But he was also thinking about the previous night.

_It was romantic. It felt romantic. And they had both disclosed some heavy things. He could trust it. Right?_

“Land, ho!” Harry called from the pilot house as eased the boat towards the dock.

“Who you calling a ‘ho’?” Tom Paris – on crutches – yelled back from the dock.

At Tom’s voice, both Kathryn and Chakotay jumped up.

“Tom, are you alright?” Kathryn asked. She jumped from _The Libby_ to the dock, not waiting for it to be tied off.

“I’m fine, seriously,” Tom replied. He moved his left crutch a little to the side so Kathryn could see the large bandage on his thigh, about three inches above his left knee.

“It hit muscle mass only, I just need to keep my weigh off it and keep it clean,” he said.

As Chakotay and B’Elanna joined them on the deck, Kathryn hugged Tom and said, “I was worried sick. B’Elanna said last night it you had lost a lot of blood, and we had no idea if the Cardonas followed you.”

Tom put his full weight back on his crutches and made a face.

“Careful,” he said, “Chief Tuvok doesn’t want us making unfounded accusations.”

“Did you get a good look at them, Tom?” Chakotay asked.

“Not good enough for Tuvok,” he replied.

Harry and his father disembarked from The Libby and joined the others.

“Thank you for coming to get us, Mr. Kim,” Chakotay said as he shook the older man’s hand.

“Please, call me ‘John,’” he replied with a smile. “I was happy to do it. You and B’Elanna have done so much for everyone here in Voyager, you like a neighbor now. Plus, it was good to go out on my boat again.”

Then he turned his attention to Kathryn.

“As for you, I am supposed to give you a message from Mary. One of the volunteer groups that came through yesterday dropped of a brand new, solar-powered camp shower. This one heats up the water and is in a tent. Mary asked them to set it up at the Fire House, and it is waiting for you to christen.”

Kathryn gasped and said, “You don’t mean she’s made other people wait?”

Harry laughed and said, “She has. I recommend you get over there and use the thing before there’s some sort of organized protest.”

\------------

Kathryn has enjoyed her first warm shower in weeks immensely. Whoever had gifted it to Voyager had also left a selection of shampoos, conditioners, scented soaps – all generic and dollar-store brands, of course, but so much more luxurious than any of the “wet wipes” she’s used for her recent standing sponge baths. And they had left – bless them – razors and shaving cream.

“I am starting to feel like a woman again,” Kathryn thought to herself as she shaved her legs under the warm streams of water.

When she was done, she put on a clean pair of shorts and a new t-shirt, one of the ones in the most recent stack of donations delivered to the town. She laid down on one of the picnic benches, letting her hair hang over the edge so it could dry in the late morning sun and breeze.

“I don’t think I have ever loved a shower more.”

Kathryn looked up and saw a freshly-cleaned-and-shaven Chakotay walking towards her. 

“The guys let you go next?” she asked as she sat up on the bench, making room for him to sit next to her.

“They did,” he replied with a wide smile. “They seem to think our trip yesterday was fraught with danger, even though I told them Tom is the one who got hurt. I didn’t argue with them for long, though, you looked so happy when you were done, I was aching for my turn.”

Kathryn smiled dreamily and said, “Who knew warm running water and soap could make such a difference.”

Chakotay chuckled, then got a more serious look on his face.

“Kathryn, I was thinking about you when I was in the shower.”

Silence.

Then Chakotay, realizing what he had said, turned to look at Kathryn.

Her eyes were huge. She looked at him, saw the shocked look on his face, then started laughing.

“No!” Chakotay exclaimed. “What I meant …,” but he got no further because Kathryn was still laughing.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, MacGuyver,” she said with a hearty chuckle.

“Okay, ‘MacGuyver’ I can live with. What I *meant* to say was I was thinking about something you said. And I was thinking about it while I was in the shower,” he tried to clarify, an embarrassed smile on his face. 

Kathryn smiled, willing her laughter to subside.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked.

“Eula’s sextant,” he replied. “The day we found her body, when we were looking at the pictures the Doctor and Chief Tuvok took of her house. When you said it was gone, you said it was a family heirloom, hundreds of years old. But last night, you said it was a replica that Eula had made.”

“Oh,” Kathryn said. “Yes, I did say both. But so did Eula.”

“Huh?”

“Eula told me that the sextant was an antique family heirloom, and that it was a replica she’d had made. Actually, what she said was it was a replica ‘we’d’ had made. I always assumed it was something she and her husband did,” Kathryn said.

“Eula was married?” Chakotay asked with surprise. “Why did you call her ‘Miss’ Eula, then?”

Kathryn shrugged and replied, “Her husband died when she was young, still in her 20’s, I think. And you know how it is in the South, any unmarried, eccentric woman of a certain age gets the ‘spinster’ label. So she became ‘Miss Eula’ at some point. It’s how she was introduced to me.”

Kathryn leaned back against the picnic table and stared into the distance.

“Owen Paris mentioned her being a widow one time, so I asked her about it. She didn’t want to discuss it. All she would say was that his name was Peter, she had loved him, and that when the stars were bright in the sky, she would think about him.”

Then Kathryn looked at Chakotay and smiled.

“That was the only time she mentioned him. And it was the first time she told me the story of Kitlyn and Caedmon.”  
  
"But why did she tell you two different things about the sextant?" Chakotay persisted.

Kathryn thought for a moment.

"I honestly don't know," she finally replied. "I didn't think twice about it when she first said it was an antique. And later, when she said it was a reproduction, I just let it go. I guess I just assumed that the whole 'heirloom' thing was one of those little white lies people like to tell. You know how some folks are -- they will show you a serving dish that they say an ancestor brought over on the Mayflower, or that their great-great-great-grandfather hid during the Civil War. And you know full well it's a pattern that wasn't produced until after 1900. You don't call them out on it."

"Why did tell the Doctor, Tuvok, and me it was an antique?"

"I guess I was on auto-pilot," Kathryn said with a sad smile. "I repeated the story Eula used to tell -- everyone had heard it, and I don't know of anyone else who knows it was a fake. I know it's silly. Maybe I was protecting her reputation."

"That's not silly, it's actually very loving of you," Chakotay said, placing his hand on Kathryn's. "But if there's any chance the sextant and the story of the treasure had anything to do with Eula's death ...."

"I know," Kathryn sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I failed to paste a few sections of text at the very end of this chapter when I posted last night. Sorry! Fixed it.


	33. Chapter 33

Another week passed. The strip mall, the Fire House, and many of the larger stores along Highway 98 all had power. The first night they got electricity back, the group in the Fire House slept with the lights on just for the hell of it.

The town’s water still wasn’t potable – the state environmental quality agency and the county water authority estimated it would be another three to four weeks before the treatment plant that served Voyager and surrounding communities would be fully operational. So the Fire House gang had set up a schedule where faucet water would be boiled and bottled in gallon jugs for use in cleaning, showering, etc. For drinking water, they continued to rely on the donated bottled water that kept showing up.

“I wonder how long this will last?” Kathryn mused one day at the Lot as a moving van with Texas plates dropped three pallets of water collected in Galveston.

“Not much longer, unfortunately,” B’Elanna replied. “The costal communities on the Gulf and the Atlantic will probably continue to collect items and money a little while longer, just because they know what it’s like – they remember that infrastructure doesn’t magically appear. But even they will get tired. Americans love to help out in a crisis, but very few understand that the crisis lasts a long time after the TV cameras have gone.”

The two women wandered away from where they water had been unloaded to the “Closet.” This was a collection of tents set up in the Lot where clothing donations were sorted by size and gender, and where the residents of Voyager could get a new-to-them pair of shorts or shirt, or whatever.

In the Closet, Mike was working with a still-recuperating Tom to sort through a huge stack of boxes and bags that had arrived the previous day. They both had on latex gloves as they pulled items out and inspected them.

“What’s with the gloves?” Kathryn asked.

Mike made a face, then shook his head.

“You know, I hate to be negative in the face of such generosity from people we’ve never met,” he said, pointing towards the enormous pile of clothes they still had to go through. “But I really have to wonder sometimes what people are thinking when they donate used underwear.”

Kathryn’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Used underwear that has not been washed,” Tom added emphatically.

“You’re kidding!” Kathryn exclaimed.

Tom nodded towards a small pile of clothes on the ground between himself and Mike.

“I wish I was. That’s why we have the gloves. I think donation boxes in some places were mistaken for laundry drop-offs.”

Kathryn was stunned.

“That’s just … seriously, used underwear?” she stammered.

B’Elanna chuckled and said, “Yeah, we had the same thing after Katrina. You want to believe that people were just handing over whatever they had, just to try and help. But a lot of people tended to treat collections for New Orleans as garbage dumps.”

She walked over to the reject pile – not too close – and looked at it.

“I asked a Red Cross person about it once, why it seemed like people were just donating trash to us. She actually looked offended. She was surprised I was so ‘picky’ when I had lost everything. It really pissed me off. I had to tell her that I was one of the lucky ones, I actually hadn’t lost everything, and that I was working on behalf of others who hadn’t been lucky. And I told her that losing your home didn’t mean you had lost your humanity, and there was no way in hell I was going to ask those friends and neighbors to put on panties and boxers that still smelled of the last person who had worn them!”

B’Elanna had gotten angrier with each word. By the time she finished her last sentence, it was clear that she was reliving deep emotions from fifteen years prior.

“Hey, B’Elanna, it’s OK,” Tom said softly.

B’Elanna closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at Tom.

“Sorry,” she said to him. Then she looked at Kathryn and Mike and repeated, “Sorry.”

“It’s all good, little sister, I remember what it was like,” Mike replied with a smile.

Kathryn stepped over to B’Elanna and put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulder.

“What do you say we get a good fire going and burn these nasty things?” she asked. In return, B’Elanna chuckled and nodded.

“Ah, look, another donation cliché comes true!” Mike exclaimed as he held up a pair of boots.

Kathryn leaned forward to get a better look.

“Are those…?” she began.

“Ski boots?” Mike finished. “As in snow skiing? Yes, yes they are. And thank goodness someone donated them, how could Voyager, Florida, survive the upcoming winter without ski boots, parkas, and goggles?”

And Mike pointed to another pile of donations. It seemed to be made almost exclusively of extreme-cold-weather gear.

“Kathryn, now you finally have a way to outfit that expedition to Antarctica that you have planned,” Tom said.

Kathryn picked up a child’s snow suit and started laughing. Soon the others joined her.

“Oh, this is so bizarre!” she choked out. “Where did the person who donated this think it was going? Did they not know where Hurricane Rick hit? Do they know nothing about Florida?”

B’Elanna caught her breath and said, “Well, this is the South, and you know all we can do is say ….”

And the others joined her in saying, “Bless their hearts!”

“What can you possibly do with all of this, Mike?” Kathryn asked through her laughter.

Mike brightened and replied, “That’s actually the good part. The Voyager Goodwill will take these higher-end but unsuitable donations from us in exchange for clothes we *can* use. They can then auction them on the national Goodwill website, and the proceeds will benefit our area.”

“That’s clever,” Kathryn said. “I just hope whoever donated these things won’t be disappointed to not see pictures of people wearing ski boots on our beaches.”

“I don’t know,” Tom said with a smirk. “I can imagine B’Elanna would look pretty good in ski boots and a bikini.”

B’Elanna reached over to Tom and playfully slapped his head.

“What’s that for?” Chakotay asked as he walked up. He had been ripping rotting drywall from Dr. Zimmerman’s clinic all morning and had come to the Lot for a break.

“Ski boots and bikinis,” Mike replied.

Chakotay raised his eyebrows in question, so Kathryn held up the snow suit to show him.

Recognition crossed Chakotay’s face and he asked, “Out-of-town donations?”

Everyone nodded.

Chakotay smiled and shrugged.

“Bless their hearts,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about hurricane donations including used underwear is 100% real. And it's not cool. If you are ever going to donate clothing to people who have been in a disaster (hurricane, tornado, wildfire, etc.), please remember to honor the dignity of the recipients. Used jeans, pants, shirts, sweaters, shoes, etc., that are clean and in good, used condition are a blessing. Stained, ripped, unwashed clothing donations are disheartening. Used underwear is just mean. Spend a couple of dollars and get some new-in-package undies and socks from a dollar store, it's just nice.
> 
> And, I promise you, no one on the Gulf Coast needs ski gear.


	34. Chapter 34

Chakotay and B’Elanna had now spent six weeks in Voyager. They had planned on staying to help Mike for three weeks, four at the most. But they had found so much work to be done.

An such interesting people to work with.

They were lucky that both had professions that allowed them flexible schedules. B’Elanna’s work as consultant with a major transportation engineering firm meant she could work just about anywhere with a wi-fi connection. And several hot spots had been launched along Highway 98, so she could drive to a truck stop a few times a week to participate in online meetings and earn a paycheck.

More often than not, though, it was Tom Paris who drove her.

Chakotay also still did some consulting work. Several times over the last few weeks, he had considered contacting the Florida state recovery officials to see if any of their plans required ecological impact evaluations – if they did, he could offer his services.

He also had been picking up stray pieces of oak and cypress he would find in the debris. Woodworking gave him much more satisfaction that consulting, and, sadly, many beautiful trees had been felled by the storm. He’d cut up more than one uprooted tree trunk with ideas of the bowls and platters he could turn.

But these thoughts would come and go, his responsible adult ideas swept away by the next Voyager crisis. Or the next manual task. 

Or the sight of blue eyes and a crooked smile.

Those eyes and that smile were much on his mind as he strolled along the recently-cleaned Voyager beach. All the debris that had littered these sands had been cleaned away by a volunteer crew representing his past – a bunch of Tulane students who took the two-week trip to Voyager as part a seminar that was focused on large, multi-year study on the impact of rising seas on hurricane development and impact.

The Tulane group had left the previous day, but not before returning the Voyager beaches to a truly beautiful state.

“Missing the kids?”

Chakotay turned from the setting early-October sun to see the eyes and smile coming towards him.

“Appreciating their work, actually,” he replied. 

Kathryn nodded then looked up and down the beach with satisfaction.

“It’s really amazing what they were able to do. I know there’s so much more to do, but this sight means so much to Voyager. Our beaches no longer look like a war zone – when our eyes need a break from the disaster, we can come here. See something lovely. Remember what used to be, remember what is still to come. I see this beach looking clean and beautiful once more and it’s like the universe is telling me, Voyager will come back.”

Chakotay looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“That’s much more optimism than I expected to hear from you after yesterday.”

The previous day had been a tough one. There had been a near-riot at the Lot when a pack of insurance adjusters had begun issuing across-the-board denials to claims from anyone who could not prove that the water damage in their homes was due to roof loss and rain coming in, not storm surge.

Kathryn shrugged and replied, “I spent an hour on the phone with the state insurance commissioner. These mass denials are happening all up-and-down the Coast. The state is working with FEMA and NOAA to map the winds and the surge information. They seem to believe that, based on our location, we will have sufficient proof that it was wind and rain, not storm surge water, that did the most initial damage to the homes north of Highway 98.”

Chakotay sighed and said, “That whole ‘wind versus water’ argument still infuriates me. I understand that insurance is a business, but all the hurricane survivors know is that they’ve paid their home premiums for years, and now their ability to rebuild their lives hinges on whether an actuary in some office building a thousand miles away believes their roof was blown off before the storm surge hit. It’s crazy-making.”

“Hmm, is that Katrina talking?”

As they continued helping Voyager, Chakotay or B’Elanna or Mike would occasionally reference something from their own past hurricane experience. These remembrances were often helpful, sometimes funny, and occasionally heart-breaking. Kathryn and the other Voyagers had started referring to these moments as “hearing from Katrina.”

Chakotay nodded and replied, “Yeah. Wind versus water. The three words guaranteed to send just about any Katrina survivor into a fit.”

“I still can’t believe New Orleans was considered a purely flood event,” Kathryn said. “The *wind* caused the water to overtop the levees. The *wind* pushed the water to break the levees.”

“But it was water that entered the homes, and it didn’t enter through damaged roofs, so it sucked to be us,” Chakotay said with a bitter chuckle. He turned away from the Gulf and walked towards the road. Kathryn let him go – sometimes, he needed a moment alone with his memories.

Chakotay reached an enormous live oak that was growing next to the road. He leaned against its trunk and looked towards the Gulf. But he was seeing the faces of New Orleans residents – friends of his father’s – who were never able to return to the communities they loved.

It had made no difference to those men and women and families that their homes had been destroyed by water and not directly by wind. All they knew was their lives had been completely upended and they needed some help to rebuild. But that was all that mattered to the insurance companies – it was the difference in rebuilding and giving up. And it meant that block after block of New Orleans remained empty, overgrown with weeds and invasive plants, fifteen years later.

He wondered if Voyager would meet the same fate.

Chakotay watched Kathryn still standing at the shore. She had her eyes closed and her head tilted back. She appeared to be breathing deeply, taking in strength and peace from the sound of the waves against the shore.

She was a remarkable woman, and he had grown to admire her so much. Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with a fear that Hurricane Rick might try to break her the way Hurricane Katrina had broken so many people he had known and cared for back home.

Kathryn opened her eyes and turned towards Chakotay. She smiled.

 _Not her_ , Chakotay thought. _Not here and not her. Not if I can help it_.


	35. Chapter 35

Kathryn walked to toward Chakotay and the live oak.

“I understand live oak wood can be good for carving,” she called to him. “I don’t suppose you have any interest in this tree.”

“This tree is coming down?” Chakotay asked in surprise.

Kathryn nodded and joined him under the branches of the majestic oak.

She replied, “One of the reports I got from the state concerned the impact of saltwater poisoning on our trees. It’s going to be touch-and-go for anything north of the highway, we are going to have to be vigilant. But these trees that are between the road and the shore, well, they had the most prolonged saltwater exposure. Their root structures probably cannot be saved. Never mind the damage to the branches and limbs from the wind.”

Kathryn stepped back from the tree to get a look at its entirety. It was both stately and ragged-looking. 

“Eula claimed this tree was probably around when Voyager was founded. I don’t know if that’s true, but it is a magnificent, old tree. I don’t want to see it die a long, slow death. And I’d just as soon the wood go to someone who will love it – appreciate its history and know how it died. Better that than have it turned into mulch or firewood.”

Chakotay stepped away from the trunk and stood next to Kathryn, looking at the tree.

“This tree is huge, there’s far more here than I could ever use,” he said. “But I understand what you mean. A living thing like this shouldn’t fade away into decay. I would be honored to accept some of the wood from it. Thank you.”

Kathryn smiled slightly.

“I will miss the sight of it, though,” she said sadly. “There will be an empty space where this wonderful oak once stood.”

Both stood quietly, looking at the tree. It was already sick, anyone could see it. 

“Maye the space doesn’t have to be totally empty,” Chakotay said suddenly.

Kathryn looked at him and was amazed by the change in his face. His once-dark countenance was now bright, his eyes were sparkling.

“What?” she asked him.

“Kathryn, have you ever heard of the Hurricane Katrina Tree Sculptures?” Chakotay asked. When she shook her head, Chakotay smiled. He took her hand and led her to walk around the perimeter of the tree.

“The Gulf Coast in Mississippi had a lot of trees like this old live oak that were damaged in Katrina,” he said. “Some of those trees were known to be well more than a century old, and Katrina left them dying. But a few artists decided that those trees, and the communities along the Gulf, deserved better than a slow death. So they carved them.”

“Carved them?” Kathryn asked.

“Yes, carved. They took what could have been little more than painful reminders of what had been lost and created art. They had the tops of the trees cut back until only the trunks and the large branches remained. And they used chainsaws and chisels and all kinds of tools to turn those trunks and branches into beautiful sculptures of sea life, birds, and so on. They became monuments to the entire Katrina experience – the lives lost, the survivors, and the rebirth. They are beautiful.”

Chakotay turned to Kathryn and, stepping closer to her, took both her hands.

“Let me carve this tree for you, Kathryn,” he said excitedly.

“For me?” she replied. Then she mentally kicked herself.

_Of course. he didn’t mean for *you*, idiot, not in a significant way, not like you hope, not …._

“Yes, for you,” Chakotay breathed. “And for Voyager, of course. But mostly for you.”

And he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

“Chakotay,” Kathryn whispered.

But anything else that either might say was stopped with the insistent honking of a horn. They let go of one another’s hands and stepped closer to the road.

Chakotay’s old SUV pulled up and B’Elanna and Mike got out. Mike look both excited and anxious, and B’Elanna … well. B’Elanna looked pissed.

“Chakotay, why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” Mike asked excitedly.

“Yeah, why didn’t you say *they* were coming,” B’Elanna repeated with less excitement and more … pissiness. She shot an unhappy look at Kathryn.

“What are you talking about?” Chakotay asked. He seemed confused.

“Sekaya!” Mike replied. “Sekaya’s here! She arrived about a half an hour ago with several trucks full of supplies. Why didn’t you tell me she was coming, man?”

Chakotay looked taken aback and said, “I didn’t know she was! I talked to her about a week ago – she offered to help coordinate locating the supplies we’ve been talking about, but I had no idea she planned to bring them!”

He turned to Kathryn and said, “You remember me telling you about my sister?”

“Of course,” Kathryn said with a smile. 

But then she remembered him also telling her about some history between Sekaya and Mike. He didn’t tell her the whole story, but from what she gathered, there was a major story there. And she also remembered Chakotay telling her that Mike still carried a serious torch for his little sister.

Maybe that’s why Mike looks so freaked out, Kathryn thought.

“She didn’t come alone,” B’Elanna announced dramatically.

The others looked at her curiously.

“Who did she come with?” Chakotay asked warily.

B’Elanna glanced at Kathryn again, then looked at Chakotay and huffed.

“Who do you think?” she spat out. “Annika.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hurricane Katrina Tree Sculptures are real. They are also amazing. If you want to read about them, follow this link: https://www.gulfcoast.org/listings/hurricane-katrina-tree-sculptures/3683/. If you want to just see the images, then Google “Hurricane Katrina Tree Sculptures” and click on the “Images” tab. They are beautiful.


End file.
